A One Way Trip
by Souptastick
Summary: The mirror rippled, much to her delight. Her research had granted her access with another plane of existence. This one possessed a unique blood. Blood rich enough to birth a God.
1. Chapter 1

The mirror remained.

She pushed the burnt dresser aside, watching as it and its contents disintegrated into ash.

Everything. Gone.

The official report from the authorities was arson. Someone, or persons, had broken into her house and started the fire.

Natalie had been at a conference in New Jersey at the time. She was employed at the university library, working in the conservation department. Her work routinely involved repairing very old, and very valuable, literature. The university was branded a research library, and therefore had an extensive collection of rare pieces. The seminar had covered some of the new techniques used in the industry.

The motives to why someone would try to burn down her house wasn't obvious, and she honestly had no clue. She figured it was simply random; teenagers up to no good and her house managed to be empty that night. Fraternity hazing was a common practice.

She was an introvert by nature. Her love of books only exasperated this disposition, and her friends were few and far between. Her modest income supplied her with the basics needs in life. She looked around her; taking in the remains of what was once a small, two-bedroom house. A dry tear escaped her right eye, quickly leaving a black trail as it died on her cheek. She wiped some of the soot off the mirror.

There it stood, unscathed, while everything else had burnt to cinders around it. How strange, but she supposed that she had seen stranger things in life.

This mirror had been a gift from a friend, Jenn, back when she first bought the tiny house. She had claimed she purchased it from an estate sale at an abandoned mansion in Boston. Why she had felt the need to lug it states away was beyond her. It clashed with Jenn's modern-day furniture, and, in the end, she had insisted that Natalie become the new owner.

Natalie was glad it had not burned up, but it would have been no painful loss if it had. The mirror had always creeped her out. She had is shoved in, what was, the corner of the guest bedroom, with a blanket thrown over the top. Nothing but ashes remained of the blanket.

Her hand ran over the ornate carvings of the frame. Yet, no damage to the wood…

Hefting it up, she proceeded to haul it out of the rubble, and into the back of her crossover. She had rented a short-term apartment while the insurance company debated about how much to fuck her out of.

"Oh! Look girl! My mirror!"

Natalie had been staying with Jenn for the past week, while she had signed a lease for an apartment. She was a nurse practitioner that worked for a cardiologist in the hospital nearby. It was Jenn's idea to come rummage through the ashes; Natalie was content to forget about it and move one. Material goods were not important, nor irreplaceable. However, it still stung.

"I'm really sorry Nat. You know if you need anything, all you have to do is say it."

Natalie stared at the black mound in front of her.

"Thanks Jenn, I think I'll be ok though."

[-]

 ** _scratch, scratch, squeak, scratch_**

Natalie woke up to the sound of something she had never quite heard before. She immediately jumped on her feet off the couch, where she had accidently dozed off. The sun was setting, casting eerie shadows across her sparsely furnished apartment. She grabbed the flashlight off the kitchen counter.

"God, please don't be rats." The reviews for the apartment complex mentioned a cockroach or two, but the landlords seemed to be quite proactive on pest control. These sounds though…these sounds large.

 ** _scratch, creek, scratch_**

She headed towards the noise. It seemed to originate from the mirror, off to the side, in the living room. That couldn't be right, it must be the acoustics of the building design.

 ** _scratch, scratch_**

Maybe it had termites… _big_ termites? Or some small animal she didn't notice before?

The mirror wiggled. Well, she thought it did, but that could have been her mind playing tricks. Slowly, she crept around to face the front side, shining the flashlight on it.

Nothing.

She let out a long breath that she had been holding. It must be a critter in the walls between the apartments. The glass reflected a strange pattern back, which almost rippled like water on the ceiling.

Perhaps it _was_ damaged from the fire?

Her hand cautiously reached out, running a finger across the metallic looking surface, verifying any inconsistencies. Oddly, there was no reflection, but it was solid.

 _It rippled._

This…this was _impossible_.

She yelped as a hand materialized from the mirror's surface. It was small, delicate, covered in a white cloth. The gloved hand latched around her wrist, painfully, then yanked her forward. Natalie closed her eyes, expecting to feel the impact of her face on the hard surface, hoping shards of glass didn't do any real damage. It felt like she was moving through syrup, and she opened her eyes, seeing nothing but blackness. She screamed, yet no sound was made, as her lungs feverishly burned.

Her head collided with a hard surface, and she collapsed like a rag doll on a blood-stained floor.

[-]

The back way into the clinic had paid off. The upper patio door was unlocked, and he slipped in, as quiet as possible. He had never trusted the " Iosefka" which this imposter claimed themselves to be, and instinctively knew something was off once she asked him to send more humans to her for "treatment".

He was wearing a modified version of an old hunter's set, which he had stumbled across during his first weeks within the nightmare. The knee length overcoat was easier to maneuver in, than many of the other standard Hunter's attire. Leather boots ended at the knees, with some additional ties at the lower thigh. This helped to lock in any material that may "come loose" during his exploits. The extra leather cloak, which wrapped around the top, kept most of the blood splatter off the internal pieces. The pointed hat that adorned his head kept his face clear of bodily fluids, and he rapped a sheet of cloth around the lower portion of his face. Thin brass guards were latched around his lower arms, weaving into the black, leather gloves.

He slowly crept along the abandoned, circular hallway, noting the strange silence. The occasional creak from the wood could be heard from his steps.

 _shuffle_

He picked up the pace heading into the room that linked to the front entrance where he had various conversations with the _women_ of this clinic. A blue celestial child stood in front of the door. It made no move towards attacking him. It simply stood there. A low, almost whimper, came from the creature. It dawned on him, and his large, brown eyes softened.

It was her. Iosefka. She had been turned into this… _thing_.

He could not leave her to such a cruel fate.

He snapped his wrist outwards, and the saw cleaver extended into a staff formation. Focusing on his center of balance, he bent low, twisting his upper torso. With a sharp lunge forward he sliced Iosefka's mutated head off.

The saw cleaver was an instrument of destruction and terror. He had ripped to shred thousands of people; some still human, others fully transformed into horrific beasts. It was a trick weapon of the Old Hunters; granted to him upon his first death in this nightmare.

Thoughts drifted back to that first awakening in the Hunter's Dream. To the first sight he laid his eyes upon. She was always there, watching. The beautiful doll, which was granted the breath of life. She was kind, she was patient.

But she wasn't _real_.

The woman that was real, lied dead at his feet…by his own hands, no less. Perhaps he deserved this nightmare, this, fate.

Closing his eyes, he refocused his senses. The pale blood, still dripping from his leather jacket, granting a small euphoria. The beast in him always craved more.

His head jerked behind him, and he sniffed. He smelled something. A sweet scent. It was foreign, and did not belong, here, in this nightmare.

He turned around, and stepped out of the front lobby, back into the dark corridor. He retraced his steps, and slipped to the right. This led to a great room, with a stair case on the far end. Wood paneling covered the entirely of the walls, and bookshelves aligned the bottom portions. Worn, wooden tables were scattered throughout, holding up random items of no interest. He heard slight moans echo above. They sounded painful. Keeping close to the walls, he made his way up the stairwell.

He cautiously peaked around the door frame. It was the imposter, kneeling on a medical table, in a birthing position. The woman was twitching and groans of extreme pain would occasional tear themselves from her throat.

" _God I'm nauseous... Have you ever felt this?_ _It's progressing._ _I can see things... I knew it, I'm different._ _I'm no beast... I... Oh... God, it feels awful... but, it proves that I'm chosen._ _Don't you see?_ _How they writhe, writhe inside my head... It's... rather... rapturous…"_

He had enough. This woman was a monster…delusional in her grandiose attempts to become the mother of an infant Great One.

Flicking his wrist, the saw cleaver folded upon itself. The sharp bits of bone and steel protruded, wrapped within blood soaked cloth. He thrusted it upwards, splitting her open. The body twitched, and he could see where alien tendrils had started to spread inside her internal organs.

Reaching inside, he found her swollen uterus, and pulled it out. Tearing it open, he yanked out a partial umbilical cord. There was an infant in development, deformed, as usual. He threw it on the floor and crushed it.

He was a monster. A beast. All that mattered was ending this hellish dream.

That strange scent. It danced across his senses, yet again. The smell was overwhelmingly strong, and his inner beast growled, restlessly.

He looked to his left. There was a bloodied body, laying on its stomach on another medical table. It had various tubes connected to their arms, running into buckets. It looked to be a simple bloodletting…not an attempt at transformation. Strange. Perhaps its blood could help support an infant? His inner beast stirred, it wanted a taste.

A small whimper came from the near corpse. It sounded…feminine.

It turned slightly, revealing a beautiful face, covered in blood and bruises. Her eyes were glossy with dilated pupils. A beautiful shade of blue locked their gaze upon him, as a pale, shaking hand reached out. It was covered in blood, which slowly dripped onto the puddle on the floor.

"Please…help."

He flicked his wrist, once again extending the saw cleaver into its "trick" form. It would be easier to end her now. She would never survive if left on her own.

It would be mercy, the same as what he granted Iosefka.

Another whimper slid out of the pathetic creature in front of him. Her breath was raspy. She was trying to speak again.

"Pinch…IV…it will…stop…bleeding…"

How… _intriguing_.

He moved closer to the dying figure. She was desperately trying to close the open incisions in her arm, still connected to the tubes that were draining her life. More blood leaked out, and small gasps of pain escaped her partially open mouth, as she failed to disconnect herself from the means of her rapidly approaching death.

He put pressure over her arm, and with one quick yank, ripped the tubes out. A scream echoed the abandoned clinic, followed by a heart wrenching sob. Blood splattered across his chest. The beast within him let loose a guttural growl.

 ** _Just one taste._**

She was clothed in strange garments. It was a material and design he had never seen. She wore pants, but that was not entirely uncommon for the women in Yharnam. He ripped some cloth off of the dead imposter, tearing it into long strips, and proceeded to tie, tightly, the open wound on the mysterious woman's left arm.

She still had some tubes in her right arm. He leaned over her bloodied form, and repeated the process. She only gasped this time, as the pain knocked her out cold. He tied the wound tight, waiting until the blood congealed. Where would he take her? The only safe place he could think of would be Oeden Chapel. However, it was a long walk from where they were, and he was unsure he could carry her while fighting the various insane denizens. He doubted the messengers would allow her into the dream.

He glanced back down at the bloodied, barely alive woman. Perhaps…perhaps they would make one exception.

He lifted her up bridal style, in his arms. She was a little heavier than most of women he had come across; obviously being well fed and cared for. Her mouth hung open, and he noticed her teeth were white. That was…unheard of. Some blood began to trickle down from her bandaged arms, onto his gloves.

He carried her through the newly opened front door of the clinic, down the stairs past where he first "signed the contract". It was something he regretted every moment of his miserable existence.

The lamppost and lantern laid at his feet. He knelt down with her still in his arms, lowering her on the floor, carefully. The tiny messengers sprung up from the foggy basin around the stand. Small, white and sickly hands reached out, touching the woman. He laid her fully on the ground next to them, and stepped away. Either they would take her or ignore the body.

The little babes seemed delighted. More popped up from the foggy puddle that started to grow larger. Eventually, the puddle encompassed her entire form, with the messengers touching, caressing, and pulling on her strange attire.

Within a blink of an eye, she sunk into the floor and disappeared in a mist. A few messengers remained at the base of the lamppost, bopping in and out of the fog, awaiting his arrival, should he choose it.

He had to finish some business, first, back in the woods. He would inquire later where the strange woman was taken. He sniffed at his hand, lifting his cloth mask downwards over his mouth and licking some of the near dried blood.

Yes…he would _definitely_ inquire about her later.

[-]

Natalie woke up with a splitting headache. It hurt to open her eyes, and she felt like something was wrapped around her head, tight.

Oh, what a nightmare. She dreamt she was in some Victorian age mansion, with creepy hospital beds, and some crazy woman trying to drain her dry of her blood.

Judging from the bandage she felt on her head, combined with the nauseous headache, she must have accidently hit her head in the apartment. Whatever she was sitting on felt hard. A hospital bed?

She must have hit her head _real_ hard.

"Please try not to move so much, your wounds need time to heal."

That was…an interesting accent. Where was the nurse from? It hurt too much to open her eyes, so she laid on her uncomfortable bed, in the dark, taking her best shot at guessing. Maybe eastern Europe.

Cold hands touched her left arm, fussing with a bandage. Extremely cold hands. They didn't feel fleshy…but very stiff. Maybe the gloves? She let out a small laugh. It was simply the effects of her dream, playing tricks on her mind. How childish of her.

"Thank ya, ma'am." A strong, southern accent accidently rolled off her tongue.

The stiff hands stopped, as if surprised by her voice.

"Rest. Should you need anything, I will be nearby."

The nurse seemed to possess a warm and polite personality. What a change from the entitled, rude bitches in the cardiology department. Her dad had heart issues, and being the closest child, the duty mostly fell to her to watch over him. Her mother had died years ago. It was how she had become fast friends with Jenn; Jenn being the only non-bitch nurse that the hospital seemed to possess.

She sighed. She wondered who found her. Where was everyone, anyways? Natalie wearily reached a hand towards where the nurse's voice had last come from.

"Ma'am, do you know if my family is here? I would like to see them." She paused. "Well, touch and talk to them, at least."

There was an odd silence that perpetuated her hospital room.

"I am truly sorry, but your family is not here. You are in the Hunter's Dream."

The what?

She felt around on her "bed", only to discover that it consisted of blankets on a wood floor. She felt her arms. They were sore, and thick cloth was snuggly wrapped around her elbows.

Oh my god…it wasn't a dream.

 _This was real._

Panic set in. She tried to roll over, but even that was an exhausting endeavor. She fought the crippling pain and opened one eye. A hazy image of a tall woman in a dress appeared, before she passed out again.

[-]

The foreigner was indeed odd. Her smell was not of the dream, nor the ones which interconnected to it. Her blood was pure; it had not been tainted by any of the Elder ones. The essence of it seemed rich, sustainable. It was no surprise she was being bled out by the healing church fanatics. The Healing Church member was correct in her assumption of the blood's qualities, as she had quickly managed to become pregnant after the first transfusion.

The strange woman's body had materialized in the small trail to the left of the workshop. The messengers that carried her through were ecstatic, but concerned for her well-being. They were fundamentally kind beings. Whispers echoed that the Hunter had found the girl.

 _Oh, good Hunter._

She had seen many hunters come and go since the Dream first awakened. She loved all of them dearly, the current one no different. It was what she was created to do. The task they underwent was always rough and greatly painful; both mentally and physically. Her purpose was to provide them comfort and stability, but, even with that, the pain of loss quickly followed as each Hunter would eventually be granted release from the Dream. Gehrman remains, but he is tiring of the dream.

Perhaps, one day, the cycle may end.

The doll stared among the countless gravestones that line the area. If she were human, she would weep; Gehrman was not the only one who had grown tired of the needless death.

Her thoughts drifted back to the foreigner. If she is not part of any of the dreams, then where does she come from? Was it a nightmare as well? Does a Great One rule her reality as well? Well, they couldn't have; her blood would carry some trace of their presence.

She would wait patiently until their guest awoke later. Gehrman was oblivious to her presence, but she doubted that the old man would care. He had mostly withdrawn himself into complete isolation. She hoped he would show another kindness, though, and at least offer the woman some comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

Natalie was curled up in the corner of, what was called, "the Workshop". She was wrapped in some old, musty wool blankets, while a crazy old man in a wheel chair explained even crazier shit.

"You belong to the Hunter's Dream now. Do not fret girl, it is not as bad as you may think, for this nightmare pales in comparison to others. You're welcome to use whatever you find…even the doll, should it please you."

The doll? What doll? That statement was dripping with a weird, sexual vibe, and she raised her eyebrows in response. She would, seriously, need to watch herself around this crazy old man.

"Thanks."

She had managed to wake up after, what she estimated to be, a week. Perhaps, two. Apparently, the entry into "the nightmare" resulted in minor brain damage. It was made worse with an attempt to drain her of all her blood. She glanced down at her watch, cursing herself silently for not remembering what day it had before her "arrival" here. At least it wasn't broken.

Her body had gone into shock after her ordeal. The fact she was alive was a miracle. Or, maybe a curse, depending on your viewpoint. She was also… _very clean_. Everything, including her, had been washed in exquisite detail.

She snapped her eyes on the old man. The thought rather unnerved her, greatly.

Inside "the Workshop" were chests, bookshelves (there were so many books they were piled on the floor), a table that appeared to be a workbench, and another table she stayed away from. It was dripping with blood, with bloodied, weird instruments adorning the surface. A chill ran over her body, and she shook her head.

She looked over at where the old man was. He had already fallen asleep, quietly snoring. She wondered where the eastern European nurse had gone. Her recovery had been quick and she wanted to thank the kind lady, and maybe warn her about the potential pervert sleeping in front of her.

Natalie carefully stood up, using a nearby bookshelf for support. Her legs were a little wobbly, but functioned without pain. This was good news, in her recent bought of shit luck. A couple of small steps later, and she was moving about normally.

She glanced around the building. This place was a mess.

The old man was deep in sleep, his head having fallen a little ways forward. She was surprised to wake up and see him looking over her on the floor. She had let out a small yelp, and backwards crab-walked until she felt the hard wall behind her. He had chuckled, and waited until she had calmed down before he had proceeded to speak to her.

He was wearing a sort of 18th century outfit. She noticed that his right leg had been amputated, and had been replaced with a wooden shaft; a possible attempt at a prosthetic. A longer, frayed jacket covered the rest of his upper torso. Stringy, long gray hair fell forward, hiding some of his worn face as he slept.

There were multiple exits to the building, all opened wide. Slowly, she maneuvered around the old man, stepping out through the doorway behind him. There was a large basin to her left, which reminded her of a bird bath. Before her was a hilly incline of wildflowers, brush, and…gravestones? They were everywhere. Some were positioned in a pattern, others just randomly dotted the landscape.

Farther out, she saw a black, ornate metal fence surrounding the general area. Beyond that was a misty haze of large tree trunks, which disappeared into nothing in the sky. A thought popped up in her mind; Purgatory.

Natalie was not a religious person by nature, although she always held the mantra "seeing is believing". Guess she had made a mistake in her life, and God was attempting to sort out where she should go.

The sky was an alien color she had never seen before. Beautiful blue with swirls of clouded red scattered across. The best way she could describe it was beauty mixed with horror. Like Aphrodite had been stabbed.

She had leaned on the edge of the birdbath, lazily taking in the scenery in front of her. She looked down at her bare feet, and frowned. She might need to ask the old man if they had any extra shoes.

A small tug was felt on her cardigan. She languidly glanced to the side, assuming the cloth had caught on the stone bath. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open.

It was…what the fuck **_is that_**?

The little white zombie carelessly tugged at the cuff of her cardigan, as though it was a child trying to grab an adult's attention. It's eyelids were fused shut, and its upper lip had receded, showing its top teeth. She stretched her arm out straighter, and the little zombie followed along her hand, before wrapping a tiny hand around her fingers. Suddenly, another pair of tiny, white hands appeared form the bird bath. This zombie had a hollowed look on its face, with empty eye sockets.

They gently held onto her hand, sometimes poking or prodding a bit. It seemed like they were…curious, about her. Another materialized, which appeared to concentrate more on her cardigan sleeve.

She slowly lifted her arm back up, and six little white hands stretched up in the air towards her. She stepped back into the building, and they lingered; watching her from the edge, before finally disappearing into the murky water.

She turned around to find that the old man was gone. That was strange, she had not heard any shuffle or creeks from a wheel chair. The building was empty, nothing but silence.

She headed to the right, through a large exit which might have served as the official entrance at one time. It connected to cobblestone stairs, that curved downwards to the right. Gravestones were positioned every few steps on the left side.

Cautiously, she proceeded. Her bare foot made contact with cool, smooth stone. She glanced to the first grave stone to her left. It was cracked, with a viscous, red substance, stretched in between the splits. It looked like a hellish form of taffy. Her face distorted into a disgusted look; she would not be touching this…ever.

Further down, the tombstones appeared much more "normal", but each had different forms of writing on it. Some words she could make out, such as "Forbidden Woods" or "Upper Cathedral". Others were odd names she had never heard of before, and was unsure how to even pronounce.

A soft breathing was heard behind her. She turned to find a woman, bent over slightly, fast asleep on a short, cobblestone wall, which served as the support for a raised section of ground.

Natalie squinted her eyes. This woman seemed familiar, perhaps the nurse? Her clothing was strange. It was an old style of dress, sectioned off at the waist which flared out slightly. Muted pink, cream, red, and faded black served as the color palette. The dress fell below her knees; light decorations of tediously stitched embroidery and lace adorned the various edges. Her shoulders bolstered a large shawl, which hung down well past her waist. Her hair was secured by an old, pioneer style cap, as some strands of near white locks fluttered, softly, in an apparent breeze.

Natalie stuck out her hand and lightly tapped her shoulder. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The nurse woke up with a light gasp.

"Ah, you are finally awake. I must have drifted off…what is it you desire?"

She leaned forward to stand, as Natalie kept tilting her neck backwards to keep eye contact with the woman, her eyes gradually getting bigger with each degree. This chick was well over six and a half feet. Maybe closer to seven. She certainly missed her calling for the WNBA.

The lady stared down at Natalie, saying nothing. Her skin seemed almost too perfect, like it was flawless, with expert make up. White, wispy hair snuck out from underneath her bonnet. Glassy eyes looked upon her. The silence was almost deafening.

The glassy eyes quickly looked above her head, at a fixed point behind Natalie. Natalie turned around, seeing only an odd, little lantern hanging off a tiny post, poking out from the middle of the cobblestone path.

What a stupid place for a lamp.

A foggy mist started to appear at the base, and she saw the white zombie babies materialize. An outline of a kneeling figure could be seen, as the transparency slowly started to fill in with more detailed colors. A massive black form quickly stood up.

The tall lady merely looked at the figure with the same expressionless face she had just given Natalie. Natalie took a couple of steps backwards, tripping on one of the cobblestone steps. She awkwardly fell back, crashing on her backside with a grunt, but maintaining eye contact on what just appeared. She scrambled backwards on her hands and feet until she felt something hard on her back.

This person looked like some sort of murderous fiend…a total psycho. They were entirely covered in black leather, with straps of leather interweaving on its chest, waist, etc. A long jacket stopped a little below their knees, with black leather boots that ended mid-thigh. Strange fabric adorned the pants and shirt underneath, but were covered in layers of leather that had bits of metal woven in between. The pieces of metal clinked as they strode forward.

The face was covered, the only thing visible was a pair of old fashioned glasses, which reflected the various light in the environment. The head had a black triangular hat, much like what you would see an old Robin Hood actor wear. Dark cloth covered the lower face, like in an old 'cops and robbers' set. In their hands was some sort of half bone, half metal thing on a bended stick. An old, revolutionary type of gun was hanging diagonally off a chest strap. The strong smell of leather and sweat assaulted her nostrils.

This person was terrifying. She was going to die.

The figure stopped in front of tall lady.

"Ah, welcome home, good Hunter. What is it you desire?"

Good Hunter? The figure made a gesture with their hands.

"Very well, let the echoes become your strength. Let me stand close. Now shut your eyes…"

They knelt in front of the lady, placing their left hand in hers. Natalie thought she felt a slight breeze move past her, and observed some of the woman's skirt, flutter slightly. The figure stood back up, dusting off their knees. They then made a few steps passed the tall woman, straight to where Natalie was curled up on the ground, trying to look very small, and invisible.

She saw two chocolate brown eyes make contact with hers, behind the glasses.

(-)

Ah, so the woman had finally awoken.

This was not his first trip back to the Hunter's Dream since her arrival. The damage she received from the clinic had nearly caused her death. The messengers had cared for her unknowing form, making sure she would live to see another day.

Or nightmare, as such things were.

The doll had taken it upon herself to watch over the strange woman as she laid on the makeshift bed, on the floor of the workshop. It was no more than merely changing bandages, but it was still a kind notion.

Gehrman had showed little to no interest. It did not surprise him. The old Hunter had taken a cynical viewpoint on life, preferring more to sleep and relive his nightmarish choices over and over again.

The feminine figure stared at him with large, blue eyes. Her dark brown hair had fallen out of its original clasp, and fell in waves around her shoulders, framing her beautiful face. She was not from that region, nor could he say she was familiar to his homeland. Maybe she was from the colonies he had heard distant rumors of, before he had left for this god-forsaken land?

He could see fear in her eyes. She was ready to bolt, not unlike a cornered prey. The beast stirred. He could smell her intoxicating blood, once again. This may prove to be… _difficult_ , to manage. He stopped a few paces away, then dipped forward, giving her an informal bow, tilting his head downwards.

"It is good to see that you have recovered."

Silence lingered, and the seconds felt like hours. She suddenly shook her head a bit, as if snapping out of her panicked thoughts.

"Yes…um, _thank you_ …"

He slowly stretched a hand outwards, intending for her to grab it so he could lift her up off the ground.

She merely stared at it.

"My lady, allow me to assist you."

Blue eyes locked with his, giving a sort of incredulous look. This was a strange creature indeed. She seemed to debate further, then cautiously stuck out one of her hands, carefully touching his glove, as though he was going to kill her at any moment. He let her feel the material, sating her curiosity.

The inner beast moved restlessly.

When her hand was fully latched around his, he gently pulled, and she was back on her feet. She was about average height for a woman, finding himself to be at least six or more inches taller, slightly craning his neck down a little to make eye contact.

She wiggled her hand free, and took a few steps to the right, coming up behind the doll. She leaned up against the stone wall, and crossed her arms. It seemed that his presence made her uncomfortable.

Perhaps she would need time to adjust.

He bowed his head again, in silence, and proceeded up the stairs into the workshop.

[-]

Natalie's eyes followed his form until it disappeared. She was still trying to process if he was going to murder her, or simply another bizarre inhabitant of purgatory. She turned towards the lady, who had been standing patiently still for the entire exchange.

"Ma'am, who is that?"

Glassy eyes stared at her with no emotion. Natalie swore she had never seen this woman blink.

"He is a Hunter."

She frowned, raising an eyebrow. "He hunts animals?"

"Beasts. Those affected, and those who desire the continuation of the Nightmare."

She repeated the words to herself, slightly mouthing them. Her eyes went wide. That…that did not sound good.

Her eyes snapped back to the woman. "How do I leave this…place?" She stretched a hand out, indicating the area they were standing in.

"The messengers. However, you may only leave to places you have been to before."

"What if I have never been anywhere?"

"Then you may not leave."

She pinched her nose bridge, and closed her eyes. "How does that even make one bit of fucking sense?"

The lady merely stared at her, in silence. Natalie realized this conversation wasn't going anywhere. Her curiosity peaked with the leathery grim reaper that recently arrived. Perhaps he would know how to leave? Or he would simply cut her head off. What were her options? The old man? She internally cringed.

She made her way back up the cobblestone stairs, keeping her arms crossed. A large overcoat and hat were hanging on the edge of a bookshelf. A man with dark brown hair was hunched over the workbench. He was wearing an off-white shirt, tucked into black trousers, with the black leather boots still intact.

Thoughts of Dracula popped into her mind. It made her shiver.

She touched the overcoat. It was a thick material. Coarse cloth folded over and sewn along clasps of bronze metal. It bolstered an inside portion, that seemed more like a vest. More clasps were interwoven, as well as bits of leather. She ran her finger along a large tear in the shoulder section.

"Bullet. I was careless."

She dropped it immediately, and snapped her head towards the voice. He was standing closer, a rag moving back and forth as he tried wiping a fluid from his hands. He had removed his glasses; beautiful brown eyes looked at her, curiously. His brownish, almost black hair, was swept back, and ended at the nape of his neck. He was pale, his lips thinner, with a five o'clock shadow on his lower jaw. A prominent nose was offset by high cheekbones.

Well, he appeared human, at least.

"Why were you shot at?"

"For being alive. They are in indiscriminate in who they kill."

She looked back at the overcoat, noticing even more rips and tears. A frown formed. She was so screwed.

"My lady, what is on your mind?"

"I meant to ask you about leaving this place, and returning home." Her eyes glanced back towards his, an eyebrow raised.

His posture straightened, and his demeanor changed. "You cannot leave." He turned back to the workbench.

Her arms uncrossed, as her mouth fell agape. "Why?"

"It is extremely dangerous out there. You would die."

She snorted, and waived her hand, rolling her eyes. She had just woken up from almost being bled to death. "Please, spare me the sermon."

He threw the rag down on the workbench. "You would do well to remember when to hold your tongue." His voice had a deeper tone, almost a growl.

Her eyes narrowed on him, and her top lip rolled up as she sneered.

Fuck this.

She turned and stomped off down the cobblestone stairwell. She had noticed a bent portion of the black fence previously. She walked up to it, noticing the various thicket and brush to her left. On the right were more gravestones, lining the circular steps back to the Workshop. These were different than the ones back and to her left.

The fence came up to her waist, and the prongs had been bent outwards. She tried to lift her leg, but it caught, tearing some of her jeans. She awkwardly hopped around on one foot, and managed to dislodge it. She leaned over, assessing the new rip in her jeans.

Wonderful.

She looked back at the fence. If she ran fast enough she might be able to hurdle over the black fence, right? She had ran track back in high school. If she got enough of a head start, she should be able to clear it.

The bullshit about not being able to leave was…well, bullshit, in her mind. If there are borders, then there is an exit. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out anything in distance. Eventually, she would have to come across something.

She stretched her legs, and bounced back and forth a bit, then walked back to where the tall woman stood. Who would have known that at 5'9", you would feel so short? She dipped a bit, then sprinted ahead, pushing as hard as she could to build up enough momentum. At this speed, she could, at least, flop over, if anything.

Something was clicking behind her, fast.

Oh shit, you have _got_ to be kidding me?

She picked up the pace, her eyes focused on the bent section of the fence. Almost there…

She felt a hand grasp her arm, and another one snake around her waist, stopping her. The momentum caused her to slip on a small pool of water underneath her bare feet, losing balance and falling, backwards, into the form behind her. A strong odor of leather and sweat assaulted her nostrils, yet again.

"You cannot jump this fence. Trust me, I have tried. Where it takes you, would grant you an excruciating painful and immediate death. Please…" He was breathing hard, forcing the words out. His tone had changed to what it was when he first arrived.

Her heart was pounding. The sturdy figure behind her held on, as she tried to regain her senses. Was he…keeping her hostage? She sudden feeling of being trapped washed over her. This was a nightmare. She let her legs give out, acting as dead weight. She just wanted to simply curl up on the stone pathway and lay there until she died or woke up back into reality.

The man wouldn't let her though, he dipped lower and tucked an arm under her knees, while his other maintained its position on her back, and lifted.

Whoa! Her arms latched around his neck, and her pulse picked back up. She froze, clinging to her apparent captor, who possessed insane strength. He had lifted her up like she was _nothing_ …

"Okay, okay…it's cool, we're cool, it's all cool." Her eyes were panicked.

He glanced at her with a questioning look; she was obviously not used to this kind of contact.

He slowly put her down on her feet, and she skipped away from him, rubbing her arms through her strange, cloth jacket. She started twirling and grabbing at her hair, staring blankly into space.

A tear had made its way down her cheek. He leaned over to wipe it away with a gloved finger.

She froze again. Her heart pumped faster. He could smell it, the sweet, addicting blood moving through her. He gritted his teeth, grappling for control on the battle raging within him. Perhaps she would be willing to part with some of it, much as Adella and Arianna had…

Silence perpetuated the two. Her eyes snapped to his, a cold and calculating stare.

"You can't keep me a prisoner here."

His eyebrows furrowed, as he cringed. His brown eyes softened, and he returned her gaze with a pained look. That was not what he meant to convey to her. She didn't understand the dangers of the other nightmares. Her blood was a beacon for the beasts. She would never survive long.

"You are no prisoner." He straightened his poster again, and walked past her.

She decided to follow him this time.

"Then why can't I leave?"

He sighed, still moving forward, speaking away from her. "For one, you would die. Secondly, you are not of the Moon Presence. I do not know if the messengers will allow you to freely move between the various realms."

He stopped, turning towards her. "It was their choice to bring you here. Perhaps they sensed what I did. Your blood is quite powerful."

She pinched her nose bridge again, and turned from him. "This is fucked up beyond belief. I cannot believe I am even having this conversation."

He narrowed his eyes on her. "You should not use such language. Not for a lady."

"Get used to it." She stuck her hand out. "Hi, my name is Natalie, and I am _not_ a lady."

His eyes maintained their focus on hers. He grabbed her hand, firmly, and shook it. "Alexander."

She released her hand, then clasped hers together. "Fantastic. With introductions out the way, I propose that we talk in a more civilized fashion over my available options of existence."

He merely nodded, then continued back into the building

[-]

The one chair in the place was uncomfortable as hell. She shifted her crossed legs again, trying to rid her left leg of the sharp pain that flared through it. He had been standing, hunched over, by his workbench for the past hour. They had said nothing. She finally stood up.

"I arrived here through a mirror. Does that have any significance to you?"

Some metal clinked. "No." He didn't even make eye contact.

"Alex, look, I'm trying here, and you're not helping."

He threw his tool on the table, and picked up his rag again. "Your behaviors are offensive. Forgive me if I am not eager to engage in conversation."

"Cool, since I'm obviously not welcomed here, I'll just go hop the fence." She turned to walk away, and a hand snatched her arm.

"You will do no such thing."

She grabbed his hand, and threw it off her arm. "For starters, let's get something straight. You…do **_not_** …touch me. Have I made myself clear?"

His posture straightened again, as he merely stared down at her. Was he trying to intimidate her? She turned her body fully towards him, and leaned in.

"Secondly, you will not tell me what I can or cannot do. You do not own me, and you would do well to remember that."

He twitched. She was positive she saw his eyes flare red, for was seemed like a brief instant. That was… _weird_.

Maybe…maybe it was a bad idea to be assertive. He seemed very unstable. She put her arms out, palms up, and slowly backed away.

"We will…um…continue this conversation later. Have a good day."

The beast roared inside. He wanted to spill her blood, taste it, revel in it. Her aggressive behavior was only making it harder for him to keep it under control. He watched her with hunger as she made her way out of the building. He stood there for a few moments, closing his eyes and trying to regain his senses. Turning around, he went back to modifying his firearm.

[-]

Natalie was leaning up against the rock wall again, next to the tall lady. She had felt that this was almost her only "safe place" in this entire nightmare. She laughed to herself: the ridiculously tall woman, with a strange accent, wearing a corset. The lady would remain deathly still, standing in the same exact position, for an indefinite amount of time. Natalie glanced at the lady's hands, folded perfectly in front. She remembered the cold feeling she felt when she first awoke here.

She froze.

The lady's hands…they were…sectioned, like how you would build a moving puppet.

Oh…oh my god.

 _She was the doll_.

"Holyshit, you're a doll!"

The animated doll slowly turned to look at her, with glass eyes. "Yes, I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you."

"Wow." Her eyes were wide. "Like, wow." She reached out, touching a wooden hand. She looked up. "Is it ok if I touch you?"

She internally cringed. That sounded disturbing. Then something surfaced in her memory.

"Oh, please tell me that _he_ hasn't done anything to you?"

The doll tilted her head to the side, a blank expression. "My lady, what do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Nothing." She just…really didn't want to talk about it. She gently took hold of the doll's hand, and lifted it up, running her fingers over the various edges, moving it to understand how it was connected.

"Wow, this is simply…fascinating. Do you feel anything?"

"I…I do not know…"

Natalie looked at the glassy eyes again, and felt that they were trying to display confusion. She patted the wooden hand.

"It's ok. I won't ask any more questions about it. What is your name though?"

"I am only known as a doll."

Natalie frowned. She needed to get out of this place. It _was_ a prison.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ms. Dolly, would you come here for a moment, please?" Natalie had decided to give the doll a more functional, human name. Her mom had been a big Dolly Parton fan. It worked.

She started to hum to herself. "Jolene…I'm begging of you please don't take my man…"

 _He_ had abruptly left three weeks ago. She didn't really know how accurate it was, but her watch continued to tick away, marking the days. She wrote down a physical count of her time on a piece of parchment. Eventually, the battery would run out, and she was unsure how long she would be held a prisoner in this nightmare. She guessed until God figured out where she belonged.

During her newly found alone time, she had decided to start fashioning her own weapons from the left-over pieces she saw scattered around the building. There was also "the chest", which produced some fascinating and utterly horrific items. She shivered, thinking back to when she threw a jar of eyeballs over the fence outside. She decided to stick with whatever was lying about the building, instead.

The old-fashioned pistol had seen better days. She was perched up on a stack of books, on top of the one chair. It allowed her to rest on it, while keeping her legs stretched, as she hunched over, meticulously fidgeting with the internals of the weapon. A redneck bar stool, of sorts.

She heard Ms. Dolly's steps.

"Your beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair. Ivory skin, with eyes of emerald green." She threw a nail back in a small box, and rummaged around for something else. She bounced her crossed leg to the song in her head.

She had made herself a makeshift apron, which was already covered in smears of oil, grease, and dirt. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, unknowingly giving herself a black smear across her forehead. She did not, _exactly_ , know what she was doing to the gun, but it helped her keep her mind occupied in her isolated prison.

"Please don't take him just because you can…"

A figure emerged in her peripheral view.

"Sweetheart, would you be able to bring me some clean rags? I need to keep this piece held down, or I'll break the chamber. It's pretty gunked up."

A rag appeared, and she snagged it with her left hand.

"Thank you, Ms. Dolly. You are way too kind to be stuck here. I promise you, that when I find a way out, I'll take you with me."

She picked up a thin instrument, and carefully moved the worn rag over, pushing it into the chamber. She _carefully_ twirled it around, trying to get as much soot out as possible. It should operate much better. Well, theoretically speaking.

"You would like my world. It's much more comfortable, not to mention sanitary. You can travel the entire planet in less than a day. Do whatever career you want. Women are equals. None of this 'my lady' bullshit. You are valued by your mind." She frowned. "Well, mostly equals." She frowned.

She hummed some more. Ms. Dolly usually didn't speak much, but she knew she was still there. She let go of the piece in the chamber, and it clicked back in place. She grinned.

"Woo! Just need to find ammo, and then test it." She grabbed the handle and hopped off the books, swinging to her right. Her face connected with the leathery, black chest of the last person she wanted to see. The smell of leather and sweat permeated her senses.

"Shit." It came out muffled.

She kept her gaze lowered, looking down at her bare feet. She wiggled her toes. They had gun powder on them. She needed to bathe, but there was no water here. In fact, there was no food, either. Oddly, she had had no desire to eat, drink, or even use the bathroom since her arrival to Purgatory.

"The doll stays." She felt his voice vibrate through his chest. She stepped back, keeping her eyes on the floor, and maneuvered to the right, walking past him. She had come to the conclusion that it was better not to engage him, since his temperament was, obviously, unstable. She walked towards a section she had made "hers", and put her tinkered weapon on the table. She grabbed a partially dirty rag and wiped her hands again.

Her fingers were filthy. She frowned, undoing the ties of her apron, and hanging it over the edge of a bookshelf. She grabbed one of the books she had begun reading. It was a dissertation, of sorts, on something called "The Healing Church". Ms. Dolly had mentioned that they were responsible for her arrival. It was in her best interest to research this cult.

She headed out the main exit, down the cobblestone steps. Ms. Dolly was standing in her usual position, and looked at her with an emotionless stare. Natalie walked on, choosing to find a spot on the edge of the property, buried out in the overgrown hedges. There was a small stone wall, and she perched up on it, cracking her book open.

Maybe he'd leave. She rolled her dirty, and ripped, jeans up to her knees. She tucked her legs underneath, leaning on her elbow and outstretched palm, while holding the book over her knee with her right hand.

"I wish to speak with you."

She rolled her eyes. No such luck.

"Then speak." She flipped a page. There had been a man named Laurence, who was either the, or one of the, founding fathers of this church. The church had split itself from a local university, of sorts, over differences in how to proceed with using "the blood". She would need to research this college; it did not seem that it was the kind of "higher learning" she was accustomed to.

"I want to apologize."

She marked the page in the book, and shut it. Her head swung to the left, still placed in her palm. He stood there, wearing his trousers and white shirt. His arms were folded in front of his chest. He had his glasses on, but they had fallen to the tip of his nose. Worry, or laugh, wrinkles formed around his eyes, and she caught the sight of a few strands of gray. He was a little older than her first impression had deduced.

"Apology not accepted." She twisted her head back, and reopened her book. Her palm moved to cover a devious smirk that formed.

Seriously, fuck him.

"You find your behavior to be amusing?"

"Among other things. Like your arrogance, for one."

He stepped forward, and snatched the book from her right hand. Her eyes remained on the spot where it was. He would continue this if she responded further. It was like dealing with a spoiled brat.

She stood up, calmly, and walked off in the direction opposite of him. The sooner she got out of here, the better. She needed to find the pervy old man. He had been much more willing to discuss her current situation. She had not seen him since she first woke up, though.

He dashed in front of her, blocking her movement. She went to step to the side, and he moved. She put her hand on the bridge of her nose and squeezed, closing her eyes.

"Pray, do tell, to what do I owe this pleasure, Alexander…"

"Your sarcasm is unwelcomed."

She still refused to make eye contact. "Why, my lord, you doubt my sincerity? It saddens a lady."

She heard a sigh, and looked up. He was staring at her with those beautiful, brown eyes again. They seemed hurt, like a little puppy. Jesus. She rolled her eyes and frowned, crossing her arms on her chest again. "Okay Alex, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"I…have not been as, forthcoming, with information."

She gave him an incredulous look, but bit her tongue.

"I would like to make amends. Allow me to travel with you outside of this dream."

She sucked in her bottom lip, and bit it little, looking at the lamppost behind him. "I thought you said the little zombies wouldn't allow me to go anywhere?"

"The messengers will…but only if I accompany you."

"Ah, so a mandatory chaperon, is it?" She stared off to the side, contemplating. Glancing back up at him, she narrowed her eyes. "I accept."

He smiled. It was the first one she had ever seen, and it was quite charming. She accidently smiled in return, but quickly corrected it. Her eyesight looked ahead, as she headed back towards the building. Upon passing him, her hand shot out, and she snatched her book out of his grasp, continuing forward in one swift movement.

His smile broadened.

[-]

She noticed he had moved her chair, leaving the books on top. Someone's, apparently, a little territorial. Jerk.

She grabbed her gun and apron and headed towards her chair. She dragged it across the floor, making as much noise as possible, causing deep scratches to engrave themselves into the wooden floor. She twisted it to its previous position, and sat back down, tying her apron strings behind her.

She had idle hands. It's what she liked about her job. It kept her relaxed, constantly working on the next book, trying to make it as good as new. It brought her joy to give the abused books some much needed tender love and care.

He had put one of his bone weapons on the table. She grabbed a rag, then picked it up by the handle and put it on the floor, throwing the cloth over it. Disgusting. The table had some bits of flesh left on it. She gagged, grabbing another rag to wipe it off.

"Jesus Christ, oh God…" she gagged again, as blood smeared across the surface. She stood up and backed away, shaking her arms and hands, desperately wiping them on her apron. A chuckle caused her to snap her head towards the entrance. He was leaning up against the frame, watching her with a smirk on his face.

"You would not last more than second on your own out there."

"You're such a pompous prick. You're also psychotic. I'm surprised I haven't ended up raped and cut into pieces, shoved into the various jars you keep in that chest from hell." She pointed to his storage chest, pushed up against the wall.

He waived his hand dismissively. "That would require a good many jars, _my lady_."

Her eyes narrowed at him, and her lip curled again, forming a small snarl. "What the fuck do you want?"

He titled his head, making eye contact with her, a devious grin forming. "Tsk, tsk…such language."

She caught the look he gave her. Her face changed, and she leaned back a bit, eyes widening. Something about him wasn't right, besides the obvious mental problems. He didn't seem completely… _human_. The way he looked at her, like she was being…

 _Hunted_.

"You…you're not human." She stepped backwards.

"How astute of you to notice, my lady. However, you are incorrect. I am very human… _for now_."

Her heart rate sped up. She was beginning to panic. Fear spread across her, as the fight or flight response was preparing to kick in.

"Your blood moves faster." He closed his eyes, taking in a long breath. "It's almost hypnotic. Like the call of a siren."

She shook, her arm trembled as she put it over her head, and found her back against a wall. She started to slink down to the floor. She knew running would get her nowhere. She had no weapons. There wasn't much she could do. This was…overwhelming. She let her head drop on her arms, staring in between her knees. She took deep breaths, trying to calm down.

He was still watching her. She sensed it. She heard his boots click and he casually walked forward, in long strides.

"I would like to ask you for something, and you have the right to deny me this request."

She kept staring at the floor, in silence.

"I would like some of your blood."

She gave him a questioning, but horrified, look. She glanced back up at the workbench, and to the weapon covered in blood and guts, next to her on the floor.

"Alex?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. He had placed a hand under his chin, as his arms remained across his chest.

"Please don't kill me."

He frowned. Guilt washed over him, as he looked at her curled up form on the floor. It had been too long since he associated with anyone outside of this nightmare. It had changed him. The blood, the beast…

He leaned over, sticking a hand out. "I will never harm you, Natalie."

[-]

She had removed the books from her chair, and sat nervously by the bloody table. The floor was stained in dried blood in front of it, and all down the sides. The top was a disgusting mess.

She bounced her leg nervously, and drummed her fingers over the wooden armrest. She had taken her cardigan off, and tied a piece of cloth around her upper arm, squeezing on a piece of folder leather in her palm. She knew the drill; she had given blood many times when her dad was in the hospital.

Dad. She frowned. She hoped he was ok. Her brother would probably move him back to Alabama. Her sister in law was a little stuck-up, but she was still decent. They would treat him well enough.

Alex was busy preparing the syringe. The needle was huge. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

He turned towards her, his brown eyes almost twinkling in excitement. _Psycho._

"Ready, my lady?"

She rolled her eyes, and turned her head in the other direction. "Just…hurry up. That needle is the size of a tree trunk."

She felt his warm fingers prod her inner arm, teasing the vein up. He held her still, and a sharp pain flared. She hissed, as it went it deeper. "Please tell me you're getting something. Also, I might pass out."

He chuckled, and untied the cloth around her upper arm, rubbing the sore skin with his thumb. She felt the giant needle move out, and he places the cloth on the entry point.

"Hold this, please." She turned her head, her face a little pale. She never did well with needles. Also, this was probably going to form a massive bruise. He put the needle down and got a new strip of cloth, reaching under her elbow, and bringing it up. He wrapped it tightly, and smiled at her.

That stupid, charming smile. She grinned, shaking her head and turning the other way, putting her thumb and finger under her chin, with her other arm propped up on the armrest of the chair.

Her grabbed the needle full of her blood. It was a decent amount. She had seen no laboratory equipment, though. Namely, there was no centrifuge here. He also did not possess any of the chemicals you typically used to break down blood into its various components.

Natalie had her masters in chemistry, and had spent a few months as an intern at a pathology lab. It was back when she had more robust aspirations for her career. Not that she would have classified her being a conservator as a "lack of a career", but it sure paid like it. She recognized a good bit of the bottles that lined the shelves the Workshop, albeit, many raised a cause for concern. They, obviously, lacked any sort of federal regulations in this place.

She snorted. Federal regulations in hell. Well, actually, that would make sense…

He clicked on the needle full of her blood, looking at it suspiciously. Then, he did something that caused her to sprint out of her chair; he rolled his left sleeve up higher and jammed it in his skin, injecting himself with the contents. She tripped a bit, and fell forward. Struggling to regain her balance, she crashed into a bookshelf, flipping a table over. She swung herself out the front door and tumbled down the cobblestone stairs, slamming on her knees in front of Ms. Dolly.

"Fuck!"

She jumped to her feet and took off in a full sprint towards that bent gate. Flight or fight had taken over, and she would take her chances with an excruciating death.

Once again, arms swooped up around her, this time lifting her entirely off the ground in one swift movement, and holding her against his chest. She could hear a rough snarl in her ear, and feel a hot, panting breath. A low growl rumbled from his chest, leaking out through his partially opened mouth.

"You're not going **_anywhere_** …"

[-]

The little drop of her blood that he had licked from his gloves had given him an insurmountable advantage against his enemies for days. It was all he had been able to think about since her arrival. The beast craved it. _He_ craved it.

Her blood flowed through his veins at incredible speed. This might give him the edge to finally defeat Ludwig. He had the misfortune of venturing into the Old Hunter's dream, a while back. A new nightmare was discovered; the travesty of his forefathers. Ludwig was the first, and he was a terrible site to behold.

The blood…was intoxicating. His senses were overwhelmed. It intermixed with his, giving his body renewed strength of the likes he had never felt. He felt invincible and indestructible. He felt…complete.

His reddened eyes and elongated fangs were visible. The claw of his right hand was partially formed. The beast reveled in the power this new blood offered. He noticed the brief image of her stumbling out of the workshop.

 ** _Run, my precious prey._**

He dashed out of the alternative entrance, jumping down with both feet planted from the ten foot drop, then heading in a full sprint towards her. He swept her up in his arms, holding her by the waist.

"You're not going **_anywhere_** …"

The beast made it come out more threatening than what was intended. If the _others_ in the interconnecting nightmares found out about her existence, she would surely be bled dry and mutilated.

Or worse.

She was shaking. Her breath was erratic, her heart pounding hard and fast. The blood accelerated through her at greater speed. It was addicting to listen to.

He wondered how it would sound while inside her.

He immediately dropped her; the sudden sexual thought surprising him. She fell on the floor in a thump, and attempted to lift herself up, but fumbled, crashing face first into the cobblestone again. Guilt swarmed over him, and the beast receded.

He ran back into the workshop, grabbing his overcoat and weapon. Kneeling in front of a gravestone, he looked over at her form on the ground. She had not moved. He shut his eyes, hanging his head in shame, as the image dissipated.


	4. Chapter 4

Blood poured through the streets of the twisted landscape. The clock tower casted it's ominous gaze across the lower city. The beasts were more aggressive, more violent. These were the first. This was where it all began. The macabre remains of those who had committed unspeakable atrocities…who thought themselves greater than the Gods themselves.

His quickened his pace, taking a swift turn to his right, avoiding the sight of a bloodlicker that was engorging itself on the remains of an unfortunate soul. The blood was partially congealed, and he found himself trudging through sludge at various low points in the streets and pathways.

The nightmare of Yharnam was based upon the real, breathing city, held in a never ended slumber. While much of the city remained intact within the nightmare, there were still differences in the surroundings. What he belonged to now was a nightmare within a nightmare. The landscape mutated into itself, and various sections of the city overlapped. It was as if it all existed within a deranged mind's attempt to recreate a distant memory.

He passed a lamppost; tiny white hands reached out, beckoning his return. He stepped into a clearing, through a small room that reminded him of the stairs which descended into Old Yharnam. To the right was a path, leading upwards into a derelict building. Blood steadily streamed from it in a small river, and corpses bobbed in its wake. Two large nightmare executioners were roaming, their deep moans echoing in the bloody ravine. He quietly crept by them, coming across a bloodied figure off to the right, barely alive, clinging to a derelict metal gate. Corpses were piled up against it, as the figure whimpered, clawing at the bars in desperation.

Alex walked towards them, and crouched close to their face. The figure was delirious, their eyes haven been ripped out; their body starved and mutilated beyond recognition. Their hands were bleeding as they clung to the gate. The quiet sobs and cries were heart-wrenching.

He pulled his revolver out, placing it near the man's head. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger, ending their horrible existence. Nothing should have to suffer this fate.

The sound of his firearm alerted one of the executioners. He heard the tell-tale sounds, and felt the ground shake as they neared on his location. He jumped up, sprinting to the right, and slipping behind a stone outcrop. The rock in this nightmare was intermixed with various, ghastly objects, and he could make part of a name of a gravestone, jetting out. Strange, mollusks occasionally dotted the landscape, and intermixed in the rock.

His vision caught movement to the right. He swung his gun around to fire, but felt the cold feel of a knife sliding into his left eye. His right beheld the horrible sight of one of the old hag's that roamed the nightmares. Her breath reeked of death, as she cackled, twisting the knife even further, attempting to rip his eye out of the socket. The agonizing pain brought him to his knees, and he barely managed to push her back. His gun fired, and she staggered. A red haze entered the vision in his right eye, and he dashed forward, plunging his clawed hand through her chest, and ripping her shriveled heart out. She screamed, going limp, as he threw the body across the path, watching it tumble down the hill with the rest of the corpses.

He raised his hand, looking at the claw receding as it dripped with the foul ichor. The vision in his left eye slowly returned. Natalie's blood had extensive regenerative powers, that continued long after consumption. He still felt the rich and nurturing liquid flowing through his veins.

The loud groan of an executioner was nearing, and he slipped back into the shadows, heading through a hidden entrance to the right. The rocky outcrops disappeared, and smooth stone wall surrounded him. He ran his gloved hand along, marking the sides with streaks of red.

The grand chamber large, with high ceilings, almost disappearing from vision. Around him were piles of corpses, some still oozing out their life force, as it puddled on the floor. His steps made splashes, as the blood came up past his ankles.

In the distance, he saw a figure, similar to the one he just granted mercy to outside. It was crawling towards him, as pained whimpers quietly echoed.

"Ahh, ahh, please... help us... Ah...An unsightly beast...A great terror looms! Ahh... Ludwig the Accursed is coming."

He felt the rumble of the beast that had quickly disposed of him once before. Out of the shadows emerged the monstrous, mutated remains of the First Hunter of the Church. His body had been deformed, almost split, as multiple appendages protruded from the repulsive torso. Most of the skin had been removed, and only blotches of the beast hair were seen, mostly on his one arm and head. The remnants of an underdeveloped leg hung off the side of his back.

His shoulder flexed, opening a large mouth, filled with black eyes, disappearing into the darkness inside. The beastly head hung to the side, the left side more animal than the right. He let loose a squealing yowl, as he moved forward, crushing corpses underneath his large feet. At least four appendages braced the large mass, much like an animal.

"Have mercy... Have mercy upon us..."

Alex dashed forward, sliding underneath the beast while dragging his saw cleaver into the abdomen. Ludwig screeched, flailing around, swiping at will. Alex bolted forward, running straight into the wall on the opposite side of the chamber. The great beast shook, almost neighing like a horse, as he charged towards Alex's smaller form. He was patient, he waited, he counted almost…

He dodged left, and Ludwig collided with the wall, smacking its head. Dazed, Alex rushed in, plunging a claw into the mouth of eyes, tearing as many as he could. Black liquid, mixed with red blood, gushed out, and another painful shriek echoed in the chambers.

He repeated this. Running in the opposite direction, allowing Ludwig to enrage and crash against the wall, giving Alex enough time to land a critical strike. Natalie's blood pumped even harder through his veins, and he felt himself become a little more agile…a little stronger. His reaction time was faster, and he could out maneuver his opponent with ease.

A human yell ripped through the beast, and Alex stopped in mid swing. The head languidly titled to the left, as its arm found the weapon that Alex had briefly noticed before, which had been strapped to Ludwig's back. The head tilted, and the human side became conscious. A brown, human eye regained focus.

"Aah, you were at my side, all along. My true mentor... My guiding moonlight..."

The sword began to glow in a light blue, as he twisted his torso, bending half of it upright, like a centaur of myth. The First Hunter raised the sword, letting loose a horrific, ear-shattering screech. Alex impulsively dodged backwards, barely missing a deadly magic attack, as the blue light shot out in a circle around Ludwig. He dodged to the right, as a massive shockwave of blue sped towards his previous position.

The great beast changed at him, swiping his massive sword, and Alex found himself having to cut corners, to zig-zag his movements, enough to disorientate him, so he could come back around for backstab.

This continued for, what felt like, an eternity. Her blood, though…he kept up. When he would tire, it would give him that needed energy to keep running. His senses remained sharp, and his movements quicker. Eventually, he wore down the malformed old man, and made one last thrust of his saw cleaver, causing the beast to topple over.

The head lopped upwards, over his broken body. The human side focused its eye on him, and he attempted to speak.

"Good hunter, have you seen the thread of light? Just a hair, a fleeting thing, yet I clung to it, steeped as I was in the stench of blood and beasts. I never wanted to know, what it really was. Really, I didn't."

Ludwig began to howl and wail, like a madman. The chambers echoed with his insane dribble, and Alex found himself falling to his knees, covering his ears. Eventually, the sounds died as the insane Hunter lost energy, and Alex ran forward, exiting the chamber for good.

[-]

She stared at the pathway which lead down to where the lonely lantern poked out of the stone. It was the more ornate gravestones, which aligned the stairwell to the right side. Somehow, they had seemed even older than the crumbling ones to the left. Down below was another birdbath, or, zombie bath, as she renamed it. To her immediate right, another path dipped behind the building. She decided to take it.

More wild flowers mixed with brush and thicket, heavily covered the grassy trail. It made her feel as though she was in a Victorian garden, buried within a small European town, straight out of the novel Jane Eyre. The trail forked off in multiple directions, but appeared to circle around, eventually. Towards the end, she saw the old man again.

He was slumped over in his wheel chair, sleeping. She walked over to him, quietly, noting a pained whimper.

"Oh, Laurence…what's taking you so long…I've grown too old for this, of little use now, I'm afraid…"

Well, well, well… _isn't this interesting_?

She turned around and face planted into a leather chest, letting out an annoyed groan.

"Shhhh." A hot breath tickled her ear. "He sleeps."

 _Yeah, no shit._

It had been a month since she last saw him…since he shoved a vial of her blood in his arm. It had taken her a good week to come to terms with what happened. Talking to Ms. Dolly did not exactly help, but at least it was _something_.

Apparently, Alex had ingested some sort of alien blood, which made him crave…well, blood. Or the spilling of blood. Or both. It was very hard to come to terms with, all of what happened in Purgatory.

About a week ago, she had been on her redneck stool, tinkering with her gun. She stood up to stretch, and looked down for no apparent reason. Her ass had been sitting on a book titled "the Great Ones", and in her curiosity, she cracked it open.

The "Great Ones" were, simply put, advanced aliens. However, it was more of a metaphysical advancement, not the science-fiction version of little green men or AI. People got high off their blood, claiming to experience nirvana, or "the cosmos", then slowly mutated into something else.

Each alien possessed different characteristics, followers, and mutations. Natalie was currently residing in the "Hunter's Dream". The Moon Presence ruled here. What _it_ actually _was_ , she had no clue. Alex had, somehow, injected himself with this blood, and it was causing him to turn into a partial beast. Or become schizophrenic.

While she had rationally figured all this out, it still made her nervous as hell around him. She stepped back, and inquisitively looked up. He had that charming grin, and his brown eyes looked at hers with the sad, puppy dog expression. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, walking past him, heading back into the workshop.

[-]

She sat down, casually crossing her legs, and placing her hands on the armrests. He was leaning up against the doorframe.

"Speak thy mind."

He stared at her, and she flashed him a cheesy grin.

"You sound like Annalise."

Who? She looked at him, wrinkling her brow.

He changed subjects. "How did you end up in Iosefka's clinic?"

Who's clinic? She got the gist of what he referred to.

"The best I can surmise, I was pulled through a mirror. At first I thought I dreamt it…but the more I strain to remember those events, the more I think that crazy bitch in the Hostel library somehow drug me into this…whatever _this_ is." She twirled a raised finger around.

"I tend to think it was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That mirror...there was always something 'off' about it."

He walked over to the workbench, looking over his, now broken, revolver, that she had been working on.

"Alex. Why did you take the Moon Presence's blood?"

A sigh was heard, as well as the clink of glasses on the table. He turned to her.

"I had come to Yharnam looking for a cure to a disease I had. Rumors of the blood healing they offered had circulated to the far edges of my country. It was…worth a try, at least."

"What were you dying from? Cancer?"

He appeared to mull over her question for a few seconds. "I am not sure. The doctors at the time were unable to diagnose it. I found myself bed ridden, partially paralyzed and getting worse."

"Sounds like an autoimmune disorder, maybe Guillain-Barre."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised slightly. She waved her left hand dismissively, looking to the side.

"I see what you're thinking. No, I am no doctor or scientist." She looked off to the side. "Well, technically speaking, I'm not. Anyways, where I come from, I would estimate our technology to have progressed roughly three hundred years from where yours appears to be now. We simply have more knowledge available at our disposal. Better technology…better research into diseases and potential cures."

She gave him a pleasant smile, nodding her head, slightly. Her watched beeped, and she clicked on it, illuminating the screen. She did not notice his bewildered expression.

6pm. She wasn't really sure why she even bothered to keep track of time; the sun never rose nor set. "So, you're part beast then. Fantastic. It makes a lot of sense. You _do_ seem to enjoy chasing after me." She looked up and gave him a sly wink. He nervously smiled in response.

She laughed, waiving her finger at him. "You are far too gullible, my dear sir." His demeanor became more nervous. He seemed to be a shy person in his "normal" state. She decided to change subjects.

She motioned towards the bloody table. "So, I haven't asked about this table yet. But, yeah. It seems a little…bizarre. Even for this place."

A chuckle escaped his lips. "This is for adjusting Caryll Runes. It's in invasive process, as it requires etching the symbols into your mind."

Her eyes slightly became larger. "You…do that by yourself?"

"Yes."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He titled his head and flashed her another charming smile. "Probably not."

She laughed. This conversation was going much better than expected.

He walked back to the workbench, and picked up the weapon she had been tinkering with.

"I see you've grown fond of the Evelyn."

"Oh, that was yours? I'm sorry, I found it lying around…" She cringed.

"Don't apologize, you can keep it."

"Why thank you, _my lord_."

He turned around. She was leaning farther back on her chair, her thumb and fingers under her chin. Her eyes were slightly closed, as a seductive smile crossed her lips. She was teasing him, although he doubted that she realized the effect it had.

The beast stirred. **_Perhaps she would be accommodating with other urges._**

He shook his head, suppressing the beastly thoughts. He was in desperate need of Eileen, yet she was dead. The thoughts of the beast were invading his mind more and more. It would eventually drive him into madness, such as Gascoigne. With no other Raven Hunters, and no new hunters to bestow the title to, it was a realistic danger. There was Djura, but he preferred to stay isolated within Old Yharnam.

"So, I'm still interested in taking up your offer."

"My offer?"

"Of getting the fuck out of here. I have been here for over two months, with a narcoleptic old man and a possessed doll."

He smirked. "Of course, my lady, whenever you wish to leave, I will escort you."

She grinned, clapping her hands together, and sitting upright. "Great! You busy? I'd like to leave, _now_."

He chuckled.

"You may need to wear something a bit different if you want to survive outside of this dream."

[-]

The outfit smelled musty. Apparently, Alex had recently ripped it off of someone he killed a few days ago. Which was great news; she was wearing some strange, murdered woman's clothes.

It consisted of multiple layers. The inside shirt was an off-white, with a stupid, poofy collar that connected with a broach on her neck. Over that was an ornate, and partially metallic, embroidered vest that came down mid-thigh. Black pants slid under black, above the knee leather boots. A heavy, floor length overcoat of cloth slipped over, with a separate cloak made of leather which fell over the chest, and pleated outwards. The leather cloak ended near the back of her knees. A belt latched around her waist, locking most of the pieces together. Thick, black leather gloves covered most of her lower forearm. She wore a similar triangle, Robin Hood hat, except she had a feather stuck out the side.

She felt stupid. How was this any better than what she was wearing? True, her clothes were dirty, torn, and smelled like gunpowder and oil. However, she had barely moved in this new outfit, and was already sweating profusely. No wonder he stunk the way he did.

"You know there is such a thing as 'heat exhaustion'."

Laughter roared from him. He seemed to be in a generally decent mood. She rather liked this version of him. He was rummaging through his giant chest of horrors. "What kind of weapon can you use?"

"Depends, what are my options? I've seen a gun, those are pretty no-brainer. That bloodied bone thing over there on the table, never seen that before." She pointed towards it, but realized he hadn't even bothered to glance up.

"I have your pistol. Is that not good enough?"

"It doesn't work. You damaged the internals." Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked over at the workbench. Two months…down the toilet. "Damn…"

Some clinking echoed from the chest. He dug out a small, old fashioned revolver, and reached his hand behind his back, handing it to her.

"Here, I used this when I first came here. It should still have a few blood gems infused in it."

Blood gems? She took the gun and held it out in the lantern light. She was pretty sure George Washington owned this at one time.

"Do you have any skill at physical combat."

She crossed her arms. "What do you think?"

He stopped rummaging and looked up, doing a once over of her sweating form. His brown eyes twinkled.

"Excellent point."

He slammed the chest lid shut.

"You'll need to make sure to stay behind me, and keep a distance of any enemies we may stumble across. I am taking you to Yharnam proper. There are almost no beasts here, only the remnants of deranged citizens who have yet to turn."

"Sounds like a great time."

"This is also near where I found you in the clinic. Perhaps we could look around that section more in depth, see if we can find the means of your arrival here."

Oh, this was the best news she had heard since she had face planted in this nightmare. Also, he had found her? She had a very, very hazy memory of a dark figure and immense pain.

"I was surprised that the messengers had allowed you into the Hunter's Dream. This is typically a haven for only those connected to the blood moon."

Natalie pondered a bit. "Maybe…whatever that lady did to me at the clinic, I became infected too?" It was an uncomfortable thought that had popped in her mind awhile back, and she had been reluctant to give it credibility.

"I highly doubt it. When I found you, she had merely drained you of your blood, of which she had consumed a great deal. She was pregnant, close to labor by the time I showed up." He turned, looking at her through his glasses. His face was already covered, much like when she first saw him. "Your blood is very…rich and sustaining."

"Is that what you noticed as well?" She immediately cringed after the words left her mouth.

He noticed, but answered her anyways. "Yes. My inner beast craves it. It is very powerful. I apologize, I should have been more honest with my intentions before. It had been awhile since I associated with anyone outside of this hell, and my mind is not what it used to be."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Shit happens."

His brown eyes twinkled again. She swore she could make out a grin underneath the cloth. A thought crossed her mind.

"Would you ever want my blood again? Does it help you?"

He walked to his work bench, and grabbed his pistol, hooking it into a loop off his chest strap. He picked up the serrated bone weapon with his right hand. He snapped his wrist sharply, and it elongated into a longer, halberd shaped weapon. Another sharp jerk, and it was folded back over.

Wow.

"I…I am unsure. Let me think about it." He gave her a worried look, and she nodded in response. His beast was hard enough to control. He didn't want to become completely addicted to her blood. However, he had managed to best Ludwig after he injected himself with it, pushing himself even further in the Old Hunter's nightmare.

He headed past her down the cobblestone steps. Natalie followed in suit, and they passed the doll on the way down.

"Farewell Good Hunter, may you find your worth in the waking world." He nodded towards the doll, as he knelt in front of a tombstone.

"See you later, Ms. Dolly."

She knelt next to him. He placed his hand over "Central Yharnam". She put her hand next to his.

"Central Yharnam, please." She grinned, staring intently at the ground. The white zombies bounced around, looking curiously at her.

Alex grabbed her hand. She saw his brown eyes twinkle again. "Hold on tight."


	5. Chapter 5

It was probably a mistake to bring her into one of the nightmares, but he still felt guilty from their last interaction in the Hunter's Dream. Her blood was extremely valuable, and no doubt, others would be able to smell it just as he had. However, she was no prisoner, and he believed he had made her feel that way.

It was no life anyone should be forced to live. He was ashamed of how he had been treating her. Her crude behaviors and mannerisms had offended him, and he let that overshadow reasoning. She was not of this world, nor culture; he should not have expected her to act in accordance to his.

She also treated the doll very well. He had not realized this until he stumbled in on her, destroying his one of his firearms at his workbench. She had mistaken him for the doll, and proceeded to hold a one ended conversation. The woman beside him was good hearted in nature. However, her insistence on bringing the doll back to her realm had angered him. His feelings for the doll had changed, but he still felt possessive.

She nervously followed behind him, sometimes dropping behind to stare at the random coffins which littered the streets. She would take off a glove, and physically touch gates, windows, doors, stone…almost everything. It was as if she had never seen this before. Perhaps she hadn't.

They descended a series of stairs, heading out into the street. Most of the crazed hunters had already been dealt with, but he was sure a few still lingered about in the shadows. They headed upwards towards where a beast had been crucified, then lit aflame, sliced at the throat and bled out onto the streets. It was a common sight. He proceeded to the left, passed some dilapidated carriages, up another set of stairs.

He sniffed. She wasn't behind him. He turned around, seeing her standing in front of the burning beast, a look of horror in her eyes.

Ah. She had not seen _this_ before either. He slowly backtracked towards her.

"This is a nightmare," she whispered, almost inaudible.

"What you are seeing is an attempt by the Healing Church to quell the spread of the beast. The beast burning in front of us…was once a person. The deranged people, who murdered it, were under the effects of the beastly scourge."

She looked at him, fear in her beautiful blue eyes. He reached a gloved hand out, and touched her cheek softly.

"This is why I did not want you to leave on your own. This city is lost within its own nightmare. Full of the devious and disillusioned. They kill everyone they find, no matter who or what you are."

His brown eyes twinkled. She gave a soft laugh, and a half-smile. He moved his hand back. "My apologies, my lady."

Her eyebrows scrunched. "For what? You didn't do this." She waived her hand at the horrific sight in front of her.

"For touching you."

She rolled her eyes. "You done broke that rule, boy." Her southern accent rolled off her tongue, and he looked at her curiously. She shrugged, turning back at the burning beast. It was heartbreaking. Nothing deserved this kind of fate. She noticed bandages around its head that had not burned off yet. This…this was a patient? They had murdered the defenseless, the weak, and then desecrated their bodies.

"Come. There is perhaps one more human left that I wanted to check in on."

"How is that even possible? Look at this place."

"There are citizens which manage to survive the Night of the Hunt. It is still incredibly dangerous, but incense keeps the beasts away. As long as enough is lit, they should come out alive."

Gascoigne's eldest daughter was still locked inside the house when he last visited this section of the city. He had left her after returning the bloodied white ribbon of her younger sister. A death which was his fault, once again. Had he not told the little girl to make her way to the chapel…

They rounded the stairs leading to the lower courtyard, with the now defunct fountain in the middle. The reveling shouts of the citizens locked within their houses had been silenced. It was eerily quiet.

Natalie walked over to a door, with light shining underneath. Incense was lit in abundance around. She pointed towards it. "So, these people are still alive?"

A concerned look spread across the visible portions of his face, as he walked up to the door and knocked. Silence.

"Right. I see the incense works. Honestly, who came up with this bullshit?"

He was becoming…accustomed, to her preferred method of dialogue, but it still grated his nerves. "The Healing Church…"

"You mean the same fucking psychos that tried to drain me of my blood, so they could birth mutated alien babies? Oh, that's just _rich_ …"

His eyes flashed red. She was getting under his skin, again. "Must you always be so curt and foulmouthed?"

"Don't give me that shit. These people are dead. D-E-A-D. All because you morons are too stupid to put stock in science, instead of fairy tales and fucking superstitions!" She was shouting. This upset her…the entire thing. Men, women, children…all dead. Murdered…because people like _him_ ran around spewing some fucked up form of religious propaganda and delusions spun as facts. They should have been evacuated, not told to sit inside, lighting incense while holding hands.

A loud growl snapped from him, and she spooked, slamming her back up against the door by accident. Arms appeared on both sides, as his body pressed up against hers. Shocked, blue eyes met red. Long canines appeared as his mouth formed a snarl. She jerked her head to the side, seeing a claw drag its way down the wood. She shut her eyes, trembling. A large tear snaked its way out.

It glistened in the paleblood moon light, and he softened his demeanor; the beast slowly calming itself. Surprisingly, he had not felt the urge to kill her, only to keep her quiet. However, he had not expected _this_ reaction from her. His right hand lifted, and he caught the tear. He carefully reached under her chin, turning her head to face him. Her eyes were shut tight.

"I told you I would never hurt you. If you have ever believed anything I have said, it should be that." Her eyes opened, and she found herself staring into chocolate brown. He ran a gloved finger along her jaw, and tapped her lips, a smirk formed under his covered face.

"This…can be a lot to take, my lady."

She laughed nervously, her eyes still panicked.

He pushed off her, and walked towards the descending stairs. Natalie stood rigid against the door, frozen. Her brain was trying to catch up to what had just happened. She shook her head, and padded over her chest and arms. She wasn't dead.

She leaned over, grabbing her knees and taking a deep breath. Her nerves were on overdrive, and her body felt like it was crashing. "Fuck…" She took a few more breaths, and stood back up, following where he had gone. She noticed something in the distance, to the right, by a large, wooden gate. It looked like…a massive figure?

She looked at Alex's moving form. He seemed oblivious to it. She was going to shout, when she noticed a black mass to her left. Was that…feathers?

Alex heard a low, massive growl. Snapping his head in that direction, he saw that a new troll had replaced the one he rid the streets of months before. It slowly turned, growling fiercely.

"Stay back!" He ran forward, snapping his wrist to transform his weapon, then lunging towards the great beast. It hit its marked, but the troll quickly recovered, twisting in an attempt to bash him in the head with a large stone. He rolled, dodging a couple of swipes, then double backed, and spun forward for an upwards thrust of his weapon. This sliced its throat open, and the great behemoth keeled forwards, bleeding out onto the murky street. Blood had splattered on his attire, and dripped down. The euphoria of the fight pumped through his veins. It was…invigorating.

A shot echoed across the empty roundabout. Followed by another shot, and then a shout.

"Fucking bird!"

He sprinted over to the other end. It appeared that his vulgar-language companion had stumbled across a flock of diseased ravens. She was running around erratically, firing at will, usually missing the birds entirely.

"You gun sucks!"

The chamber clicked empty, and she threw it at the bird, lodging it in its head by some miracle. It flopped over, dead. The other two were slowly pushing their way towards her. He flicked his wrist, folding his weapon on itself, then lunged two quick swipes across the winged rodents. Blood seeped out of their mouths, dripping in between the cobblestone cracks of the path.

He looked over to see her desperately trying to break off a long piece on a broken wooden box. A large, covered grin spread across his face. This was, by far, the most entertainment he had had in quite some time. Maybe he should take her with him more often? She kicked at it feverishly, until a shattered piece flew out of her hands.

He caught it, midair, with his left hand. She had her hands on her hips. Her face was flush, she was breathing harder, sweating. It was quite…attractive. The beast twitched. She held her hand out.

"My normal, _and functioning_ , weapon, please."

He let a hearty laugh loose, and threw it towards her. She failed catching it, and it fell on the ground, skidding in front of a dead raven. She slowly crept over to the carcass, and kicked it in the head with her boot a few times, verifying it was dead. She then leaned down, grabbing her splintered wood, and backed up a good distance away, giving it a few swings in the air.

He leaned over, placing his boot on the bird's head, and yanked his pistol from its skull. Some bits of brain spilled out onto the stone below his feet, and he gave the weapon a good shake, placing it in a hoop off his chest strap. It was his first firearm and he was slightly sentimental.

She pointed towards his chest with her stick. "That _thing_ …you just need to buy a new one. I will even give you the money for it, if you're that strapped for cash."

The twinkle in his eyes was back. She heard another series of laughs resonate from underneath the cloth. "My lady, I assure you, it works quite well."

Her eyes narrowed. " _Yes, I'm sure it does._ "

He proceeded forward, motioning to her with his left hand. "This way, madam."

[-]

The light was out. The incense had long burned down to ashes. He could see no visible force of entry through the window or front door. He knocked again, louder. His mind was panicking. _Not again_.

Natalie was leaning up against a back wall, wiping sweat off her brow. She stunk. This whole city stunk. No wonder everyone had some sort of disease. You didn't need "Great Ones" and blood drinking to explain why. Alex was starting to bang on the glass window. If he kept that up any longer, it would eventually shatter. She rolled her eyes.

Her vision drifted off to the right. She stood on the upper level, that formed a large wall to the street below. Her position gave her a decent overlook of the sprawling city below. She could see a large, massive bridge in the distance. Houses were built on top of each other. There was no telling how many people had lived in this section of the city before it was ravaged by mutated zombies.

She squinted her eyes. Something caught her attention down below. It looked like a small figure, but almost blended into the stone street below. She leaned closer over the edge, getting on her hands and knees, peering downwards.

 _Oh…oh no…_

She stood up fast. There was a ladder that connected this level to the one below. It appeared the girl had taken a wrong step, and fell off. Or she jumped. Whatever, this wasn't CSI Miami.

"Alex…" she said firmly. He was still banging on the window. "Alex, I need you to come here, please."

He stopped. His eyes had a panicked look, and worry wrinkles formed around them. "She's not there. We need to find her. Her sister…her sister didn't make it. I can't let her die too."

He started to head off in the direction they had come from. Natalie grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"Alex…Alex listen to me. Focus on my face, ok?" She turned him around, grabbing his covered chin, and directing his eyes at her. Panic rolled off him in waves, his eyes wide and erratic.

"Alex, I need you to look at something, but you need to remain calm." She grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers, putting another hand on the crook of his elbow, assuring that he couldn't bolt off without at least her body weight in tow to slow him down.

"Down below."

He peered over the edge, down the ladder.

He dropped her hand, easily pulling away from her grip on his elbow. He swung himself over the top rung and slid down the side rails in one swift motion. Natalie stumbled, but caught her balance before she tumbled over the edge. She anxiously debated a bit, then swallowed, sitting down on the ground and scooting to the top of the ladder. She slowly edged a foot on one of the first steps. She cautiously turned her body, aimlessly trying to find the next bar with her right foot. Her hands shook, as she tried to steady herself.

Her foot found something solid, and she slowly put her full weight on it. One step at a time, she nervously made her way down. She had fallen off a ladder once when she was a kid, and it made her nervous to be on them ever since.

Finally, she felt solid ground. Brushing herself off, she turned to find Alex, kneeling over the dead corpse of a young girl, probably no more than twelve. She walked over, crouching next to him, and putting a hand on his back.

"Hey, hey it's okay. It's not your fault. These things happen." She had no idea why she felt the need to comfort him. She patted his back, like you would a child, and wrapped her arm around to grab the opposite shoulder. She gave it a squeeze, as he stared blankly at the dead girl before them.

Silence fell between them, and distance noises from the city echoed in the background.

"I killed her sister."

 _Oh boy…_

"I told her to go to Oeden Chapel. Told her it was safe. I found part of her body in the belly of an enormous boar, in the sewers. I…didn't know…I thought I had killed everything…"

 _Giant pigs?_ _In the sewers?_ _The…the fuck?_

"Hey," she turned his chin towards her again, then placed her hand on his covered cheek. "Not everything is your fault, nor can you be responsible for the actions of every person, be it child or adult. Your intentions were well placed. Had she remained in that house, then she may have met the same fate that the girl lying here met, or worse." She waved one of her hands upwards. "I mean, _look_ at this place. Nothing is safe, _anywhere_. I almost got murdered by a brain damaged bird." She pointed towards herself. " _And I_ _had a gun_."

Brown eyes glistened, looking hopeless. She gave him a sweet smile. Her other hand found his face, and she slowly started to pull down on the cloth that covered his mouth. He remained still, intensely watching her. Eventually, his thin lips came into view. Keeping her hands where they were, she rocked forward on her knees, tilting her head to the side-

 ** _"_** ** _Grrrrr…"_**

Her eyes snapped wide open, staring into his, mimicking the same emotion.

Something massive moved in the distance. It was behind her.

He jumped up, causing her to fall backwards on her backside. Natalie glanced over her shoulder. Another giant, even bigger than the one on the above level, was heading towards them, full sprint. She scrambled to her feet, sprinting over into the wall. She had no weapon, no nothing.

She watched as Alex rolled, springing forward to slash at the great beast. It was truly magnificent watching how he fought. He was extremely agile, and deadly accurate. He raised his gun to fire, and the giant knocked it out of the way, sending it skidding towards her feet. Alex responded with a cut on its arm, causing blood to sling out.

She leaned over, picking up the weapon. She saw Alex dodge, and then accidentally mistime his step. This gave the giant enough time to whack him good in the back, sending him flying back a dozen feet.

She aimed his weapon, and fired, hitting the giant in its face, causing one of its eyes to rupture.

Like she had said, his other gun was a piece of crap. Maybe he'd believe-

She noticed the large thing was barreling towards her, furious. She fired again, hitting it in the chest, but doing little to slow it down. It barreled into her, sending her flying backwards, crashing into a large wooden door and twisting her knee underneath her body weight.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea.

She heard a few loud noises, and a wet gurgle before her vision went black.

[-]

He ran over to Natalie's crumpled form in front of the massive door. She was unconscious from the impact of her head on the hard surface. He shouldn't have brought her. He always had problems dealing with the trolls, leaving with at least a few bruises and a sometimes a broken bone. Blood trickled out of the gash in her head, filling his nostrils with its honeyed scent.

He hefted her up in his arms. They were a long distance from a lamppost. He fumbled in his pack, digging out the bold hunter's mark that Eileen had given him when he first showed up in this nightmare. He stared at it, unsure exactly how it worked. Some blood dripped on his arm, and he gritted his teeth.

Suddenly, the markings on the parchment started to glow a bright red and he felt a pain in his mind, but was unable to divert his eyes away. The pain roared, as the burning on the paper increased, until it was searing hot agony, crippling his very thoughts. He screamed as a white flash surrounded him.


	6. Chapter 6

She had a found a fancy cane, shoved in the depths of his giant chest. She had a small, scratch that, _huge_ , inclination that it was some sort of magical box. It had taken her a few days to gather enough nerve to open the lid again. She swore she would look through all the contents then glance back to find that new items had suddenly appeared among the rubbish.

When she stumbled across something disgusting, she threw right back in the chest. She would close the lid, reopen it, and usually find that the offensive item was gone, possibly replaced by an equally disgusting item. Statistically speaking, she would just need to keep repeating the process, until all the items within its contents cycled through.

Eventually, the metal cane popped up. She was still recovering from her slam into the wall from the giant. Luckily, she walked, err, limped away with minimal damage, but the sprain in her knee was still being nursed back to health. She touched the back of her head. It was still sore.

She had woken up, bridal style, in Alex's arms. She smacked his shoulder, telling him she wasn't an invalid, and perfectly capable of walking on her own. He put her down, and she immediately toppled over as soon as she put her weight on her right knee.

It seemed…heavy, for a cane. She tested her weight on it a few times. Excellent. She made her way towards the chair. She had dumped the heavy leather outfit, and resumed her normal "street clothes". They had been cleaned, to her amusement. She had also found herself clean upon returning to "the Hunter's Dream". It was like, the little white zombies operated some sort of hellish version of a car wash.

She shuttered.

Alex had left again, heading into a different "realm" of one of the many nightmares that existed. She had picked back up on reading, as there was very little else she could do to occupy her mind. He had rearranged the furniture to make it more "comfortable" during her recovery, and stacked books on her table, each covering a variety of different subjects.

He had decent taste, she would give him that. One book, in particular, was a historical account of the city she had just visited, and the ancient ruins it had been built over. That same college she had read about previously, the one tied to the Healing Church, had discovered the ruins, and reportedly hauled some "other worldly" items from its depths.

The doll would come to visit her from time to time, seeing if she needed anything during her second, albeit much more conscious, recovery. Natalie would always smile, being pleasant, and even asking the doll how she was feeling.

"I do not understand. How else should a doll feel, my lady?"

Natalie shrugged. "Stiff?"

She wondered where Alex was. It had been at least two days since he last faded away into the lingering mist around the tombstones. She…missed his company, as weird as the boy was.

She chuckled a bit. Missed her captor, did she? Perhaps it was Stockholm syndrome at its finest. However, she did seem left to her own devices. He allowed her access to everything of his, and she now knew how to exit this dream; she could very well leave at this instant if she desired. Although, it was by far the best place to be, free from abusive blood thirsty giants and birds, as she had experienced firsthand.

There was also what she had almost done, over the body of a dead girl, no less. She shook her head, trying to push the thought out of her mind. What was she thinking? Maybe this place was starting to rot her brain? There's just no excuse for that, and nothing she would have ever done in her right mind.

She stood up, tapping the cane hard, for no real reason at all.

"Chink!"

It unwound into a long, metal chain. A squeak echoed in the room, and she looked up, locking eyes with the old man.

"Looks like we may make a hunter of you yet, girl."

[-]

He had been to Yahar'Gul before, albeit, briefly. The scars from the bolt shocks were still present on his body. Eventually, they would fade, but the Darkbeast Paarl had proved to be a difficult enemy.

This was all before _her_ , though.

He had accessed the city through the passage that had been denied to him before. The Kin was still perched over the entrance, but he easily dodged past it, heading into the chilling atmosphere that originated from the hidden city below.

There was much of the city that he had not explored, and relics of various power were hidden within its horrific depths. A portentous chanting would sometimes ride on the wind, fading in time for a person to question if it had been real, or merely a trick of the mind.

He now saw things…things that had remained hidden to his primitive mind. A number of Kin had suspended themselves on the various buildings, looking out over the cursed city. After slaying Rom, it had ushered the paleblood moon, causing his insight to, more than, double.

Guilt ate at him. There was no other explanation for what had transpired with the Byrgenwerth spider. He had murdered her; in his ignorance, his haste. She was the last defense of the city…keeping the nightmare at bay. He had ushered it forth, and must now reap what he had sown. It was needed, though, should the nightmare ever finally end.

His eyes scanned the layout before him. The Unseen Village was massive. Rows upon rows of buildings interconnecting both the upper and lower levels. It would take him many weeks to explore.

The distant sound of a bell chimed in the distance, and he picked up his pace, heading down the steps into the village. The figure of a frenzied Huntsman appeared before him, stumbling forward, swiping its cleaver where he stood. He moved to the slide, twisted, then pushed off his legs to hit the deranged beast from the back. It twitched, groaning in pain, as the blood poured out of its spine. It fell to its knees, curing to its side, as it quickly died.

The bell chimed, once again…still faint. He strained his ears, trying to pinpoint its location. A wet noise was heard behind him, and he turned. Below the dead Huntsman a small pool of blood had started to vibrate, moving rapidly. He saw the arm twitch, and then the leg bend, as it pushed itself off the ground. The exposed spine started to heal, as skin string across, filling in the gaps. It turned, shouting at him loudly, and plunged towards him. Alex dodged back, as the clean swiped across his arm, causing blood to spill. He stepped forward and plunged his cleaver through its chest.

He had to kill the bell ringer, or he would never survive. He pushed the body off, and took off sprinting in the opposite direction, down more flights of stairs. Huntsmen were everywhere, and a few bullets cut through the thick atmosphere, barely missing. The bell rang again, this time louder, and to his left. He ran across a bridge, noting the Kin on the outer walls. It had been spending its time, grabbing the deranged men that were aimlessly wandered up and down the connecting bridge.

A large, many fingered hand swooped down, aiming to grab him. He tripped a huntsman, and shoved it in the way, running even faster into the building below. He heard the terrified screams, as the huntsman was carried off into unknown horrors. The bell's ring was loud, echoing off the walls of the large room. He saw the old women; her gray, wispy hairy blowing in the unsettling breeze, with her haggard face hidden underneath a black hood. He ran up the stairs, hiding behind a pillar as shots were fired, then stepping over and slicing her head off with one quick snap of his wrist.

This was his strategy, his meticulous system, has he slowly made his way through the cursed village. His death would bring him back to live at the lamppost. His weapon cleaned, his clothes free of bodily fluids that spilled on him. Again and again, he kept pushing forward, gaining a little more each time.

Eventually, he made his way back to the Yahar'Gul Chapel, seeing the broken lamppost from across the great chamber. The Hypogean Gaol was located below, where he had first arrived in a sack, and where he had stumbled upon Adella. The lantern had been smashed. He stepped further, looking down, across the room where the two snatchers had resided before.

He saw two Hunters, of the moon presence, insane with bloodlust, no doubt. He gripped his weapon, assessing the surroundings and options. Behind him was a lamppost, and he knelt to one knee, lighting it. He knew his next death in this nightmare was eminent. Call it intuition…

[-]

"Balance, girl! How else do you plan to defeat your enemies if you're wobbling around like a chicken with its head cut off."

Day sixty-two. She was going to murder this old codger during one of his naps.

Her knee had fully recovered, roughly two weeks after the giant incident. The old man, Gehrman, took it upon himself to start training her for physical combat. He said it was pathetic she couldn't even use a pistol, to which she immediately scoffed at.

She had accidently stumbled across one of the staple trick weapons of the Old Hunters. Apparently, all it took was figuring out how to access its "trick" form for you to become talented enough to be trained.

Low expectations. Maybe desperation. Possibly more that he was senile.

It's not like she had much else going on, anyways. She was trapped, physically incapable of surviving whatever other dreams, or nightmares, connected with this one. Gehrman had emphasized that she should become somewhat capable of self-defense, in which she agreed. Maybe being able to defend herself would be invaluable in the new situation she found herself in? Alex wasn't a steady bet to keep relying on, and routinely would disappear to go off on his own agenda.

He still had not returned. She had asked Ms. Dolly if it was common for him to keep disappearing so much, and for so long. The doll politely nodded, saying there were instances where hunters had disappeared from the dream for years, before returning. Somehow, it didn't make her feel better.

Her clothes had basically fallen apart, and she had to modify some of the garments she found in "the chest of wondrous horrors". The old man's training was rough, and she would finish each session soaked in sweat. She had found a pair of worn brown trousers, and cut the legs enough to turn them into shorts. She wrapped her upper torso in a, sort of, Roman inspired breast band. It looked more like a dungy tube top after she was done, but it provided support. She sewed some suspenders on the shorts, helping to keep them up while she ran around.

She showed up in her hobo workout clothes the second day of training, bare foot. Gehrman had simply chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "You're a strange one, girl."

Whatever, you old pervert. At least I don't fuck dolls. The thought still made her shutter.

She lunged, making contact with the target he had set up, shattering it to pieces.

"Good! Good…you are excelling quite well, my dear. We may move onto more complex situations next time."

Natalie twisted the handle of the cane, causing it to retract back into its original form, as she leaned forward on it. Sweat dripped down her brow, as she wiped some of it out of her face with the back of her hands.

"If it involves me chasing you around in your wheel chair, then count me in."

He chuckled, loudly.

Their "training arena" consisted of a fenced-in, grassy back lot. A squeaky gate connected it with the main area. She had never noticed it until he brought her here; it had been well hidden by the brush and thicket.

The tell-tale squeak was heard from behind her. Natalie didn't even bother to turn around. Ms. Dolly would occasionally make her way to them, checking to see if either needed anything. Such a nice, possessed doll.

"Why is she here?"

Her head snapped to the right. It was Alex. He was adorned in his hunter's gear, face wrapped and only his glasses visible. He seemed to be in one of his "moods".

"You see before you a new Hunter in the making, young man. We have been busy while you were gone."

Gehrman turned towards her. "Go rest girl, you did good today."

She picked up the cane and bounced ahead. She hadn't done regular exercise in years, and her body felt great to finally be put to use again. She ran over to the zombie birdbath on the lower level, sinking a pitcher in the water, and drawing some out.

She had experimented one day, out of pure boredom, and found that the water replenished itself, no matter how much you took out. A never-ending supply of zombie bath water, at her disposal.

Be still her beating heart.

She dunked it over her head, and the sweat washed away. The bath water always had a nice, flower smell to it. Not overwhelming, but it enough to make it pleasant. She didn't know if the little zombies did that because of her, or if it always smelled this nice. They seemed to have taken a liking to her presence, and would often offer her "gifts". Typically, it was something horribly disgusting, like an aborted fetus, but it was the thought that counts, right? She would pat their heads, and then sneak off to throw it over the fence later.

"Why are you indecent?"

He was staring at her, about ten feet away, as she rang the water out of her hair. "I wasn't aware my body was so offensive to look at." She walked past him, heading up towards the workshop. Usually she got naked and threw her clothes in the bath immediately. However, she'd have to change up her routine today.

She grabbed a large fork off a table, and started easing the tangles out. It worked for the Little Mermaid.

His left eyebrow raised. "There are more acceptable items to use in the chest."

"Yes, but after I found a spinal cord in a jar, I decided that I had had enough of your 'chest'."

A warm laugh resonated throughout the open room.

She stood up, motioning at what she was wearing. "Contrary to _your_ opinion, this is a pretty standard amount of skin to show during exercising." She looked down at her long shorts, which cut off at the knees, and frowned. "In fact, this would probably be more on the conservative side." She rummaged through the box she used as a makeshift dresser, hauling out a long tunic and black pair of pants. She had tried to fix them to fit her better, and ended up having to cover both pieces in various patches. She was still proud of her home economics attempt, though.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I plan on washing the parts of my body that even _my_ society considers too risqué to flaunt in front of individuals who are not your lover. Unless, you're eager to fill that role." She winked at him, then walked past and down the stairwell, heading back to the lower zombie birdbath.

She dropped the shorts, kicking them to the side. The little zombies stretched their hands for them. Handing them her shorts, she lifted her arms up, and slowly started to undo her band. It was a long piece of cloth, and she wasn't quite sure if she was putting it on correctly. She made so many passes, and pulled so tight, it usually left red indentations across her breasts.

No pain, no gain. She fed the band in, a bit at a time, while tiny hands slowly pulled it out of her hands. She leaned over the birdbath, naked, waiting for what came back. The end of a crispy, white strip of cloth bobbed out, and she pulled a newly washed band from the multidimensional birdbath.

 _Well, hot damn._

She put the newly cleaned items on the ground, and started dousing her naked form in water from the pitcher. The downside to the mystery water was that it was always cold, and she shivered slightly, running a rag over herself.

She raised her arm and sniffed; satisfactory. She slipped on her black pants, commando style, and pulled the tunic over her head. The tunic was a thick enough material that it shouldn't show anything. Bending down, she gathered the wet items and patted all the little zombie babies, who splashed around excitedly. She walked barefoot back up to the Workshop.

He was at his workbench again, his overcoat and hat hung up on a bookshelf, leaning over a different weapon she had never seen before. She cracked open one of the glass doors that adorned the upper part of the bookshelves, stringing her wet clothes over the edge, attempting to dry them faster.

She skipped over and perched herself on a new pile of books she had stacked near his workbench. Redneck barstool #2. She had leaned on the edge of his bench, with her elbow propping her head up.

Brown eyes slowly looked up to connect with blue. She wiggled her eyebrows, and gave him devious grin.

"So…whatchya doin?" She was originally from Alabama. While she had spent years trying to rid herself of the southern drawl, it would occasionally come out during times of duress. However, at the moment, she was merely enjoying playing an idiot at his expense. She was having a hard time keeping herself from laughing, while looking at him with dead serious eyes.

"Examining this weapon."

He lowered is head again, focusing on the item in question. It was a weapon he barely managed to lay his fingers on before he saw the insides of his chest puncture through his ribcage. The other Hunters he had come across were still alive, and had proved almost impossible to defeat. He did not know how he would kill them, but it would need to be done, should he progress further into nightmare.

She leaned her head down on her elbow, and stuck her hand out, touching the weapon.

"Where ya been?"

She made lazy circles along the handle. It looked like some sort of mace with a perfect sphere shoved on the end.

"I hope you are merely jesting, my lady."

She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. He was zero fun.

He looked at her, and quickly ran his thumb across her lip, then went back to the mace.

Her eyes widened, and she sat up straight. That was…unexpected.

He didn't seem in the mood of chatting, which was unfortunate because she was eager to hear where he had been for the past two months. She also wanted to ask him about going back to the clinic. They had gotten, unfortunately, side tracked during her last visit outside of this dream.

She stared at his lips, blushing a bit. She truly had no idea why she almost did that back then. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, the adrenaline…who knows?

Shaking her head, she jumped off the makeshift stool, and headed back to her section, swiping a book she had recently cracked open. It detailed more of the local politics of the healing church and the remnants of Byrgenwerth College. She found this to be horrible and fascinating, all at once. With the small amount of research she had done on her own, she surmised that the healing church _caused_ the scourge of beasts; in a pathetic attempt to obtain control on the populous, by offering the only means of a cure. The "cure" failed, as the disease developed into a more advanced form, leading to where they were now.

She relaxed on the one chair in the entire place, propping her legs up on the nearby table, continuing where she had left off. When he felt like talking, he'd stop by. She was content he was back, and that was enough.

[-]

She looked up to see a pair of inquisitive, brown eyes staring back.

"I have…a favor to ask."

 _Oh, do tell_.

"You may become offended, which I would understand. This is not an obligation, by any means."

She had an inkling what he might want. "You want more of my "intoxicating" blood, do you?"

He eyes widened slightly.

"He who does not want his secrets known, should refrain from leaving journals open in plain sight."

She dropped her bookmark in, and shut it, then proceeded towards his workbench, propping herself back up on the stool made of books. He, sort of, stood there, wide eyed and shocked. He finally readjusted his face and walked towards her. She stuck her arm out, turning her head. "I swear, I'm going to look like a heroin addict if I spend much longer here."

Warm fingers prodded at her arm, getting the vein to rise.

"What else did you read?"

Turning her head to face him, she ran her finger along his jaw. "Only the juicy parts."

She winked again, then turned her head back, staring into the corner. After about ten seconds, she felt the painful prick, and then the pull of liquid from her body.

"Jesus, you people use barbarous sized needles." He pulled it out, and it stung. "Sadistic bastards…" She put pressure on the cloth, hissing.

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. Perhaps she had been too forward with him. She had only read the top page of the journal he left out, and it was by accident. She was not nosy by nature. It had only mentioned about her blood, and the "euphoria" that came with it that one day.

It was still a little disturbing.

He wrapped her arm a few times, tying it off snugly. "You good?" He shook his head. "Great, since my only real purpose here has been fulfilled for the day, I'll go back to reading in the corner." She hopped off the stool.

An arm reached out, latching around hers, stopping her movement. She looked up to see him intensely staring down at her. Fuck, was this another "beast episode" with her blood again? Her eyes darted around, looking for the best exit plan.

"Why would you say that? You are not some animal to be farmed." His other hand lifted upwards to touch some of her hair that had fallen forward, wrapping the strands back behind her ear. He let his hand ghost down the length, stopping on her left shoulder.

He released her arm, and turned back to his bench.

 _Oh for fuck's sake._

She stared at his back for a bit, then threw her hands up in the air. She swiped her book, and went out in the back lot to read.


	7. Chapter 7

She was hiding in the bushes, waiting for him. He had asked her for her blood, and she knew what that meant.

He'd be leaving again.

There was no way in hell she was going to hang around in this "dream" for another two months. She was wearing the uncomfortable, and heavy, outfit that she went out in the last time she left the Workshop. The collar itched, and she scratched it in irritation.

She heard the familiar metal click of his weapon changing. He was doing his usual routine. She held her breath, remaining as quiet as possible. Ms. Dolly was standing in her usual spot, staring off into space.

How that doll managed the boredom was beyond her.

He emerged, dressed in his usual black gear, the overcoat flapping behind him as he shook it off. He walked briskly, stopping as the tombstone right in front of her. She quickly pounced forward, reaching out and grabbing his arm, just as the white zombies started to pull him into the other realm.

His head snapped to her, and she caught his surprised look as her vision faded. Slowly, her surroundings became clear again. She looked up; they were in a giant room. The walls were all smooth stone, and before her was a railing, looking out over the expansive lower section. Stone pillars stretched upwards, touching the ceiling.

She grinned. She was glad to be out and seeing something new.

She felt something yank her back against a wall, kicking a clay pot to the side, which shattered upon impact, spewing shards across the floor. Her grin immediately died.

"What in the _hell_ are you thinking?" He said it to her in a hushed, but stern voice. He was trying to control his anger.

She smiled at him, and smacked the side of his arm. "Cheer up. You have free help."

He grabbed her shoulders a bit tighter, leaning in. "Natalie, this is not a joke. This is an incredibly dangerous place. You _need_ to go back."

Her eyes widened, as her demeanor went from cheerful to pissed. "Look. You cannot, and _will not_ , leave me to rot in that goddamn Workshop while you prance around, picking up shiny items and other bullshit. I am staying, and that is final."

He growled, and she narrowed her eyes in, looking up through his glasses. "Besides, consider it a fair trade for my 'intoxicating blood'."

His eyes closed, as he silently swore to himself, and stepped back, releasing his grip on her shoulders. She rolled them, and went back to taking in her new surroundings. She walked over to the railing, and looked below. The lower level was covered in some sort of grating, that had shown through the failing stone flooring. She squinted her eyes…

"Hey, Alex, look! Hi! Up here!"

She was waving her arms at the figure below. They were dressed, kind of, like Alex, which meant that they should be somewhat normal…or, intelligent. Let's just go with, "able to maintain a basic-level conversation", at the least.

Alex dashed towards her, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her back as a bullet barely missed her head. Some stone rubble broke loose and crashed against the floor next to them. He had her wrapped in his embrace, turning his back to shield any other shots that might have followed. Her eyes were wide, and she was a little stunned.

"They're…not very friendly."

He laughed, lightly touching the side of her face, as he tilted her head up to face him. Her hands were latched onto his chest, as her pulse was still a little rapid.

"Ready to go back, now?"

She shook her head, and he eyes narrowed on his. "NO."

His fingers ran along the edge of her jaw, as he gazed at her face. Her pink lips were slightly parted, and a slight blush ran across her cheeks from the sudden fright. He tapped her nose, then broke the embrace, stepping away.

She crossed her arms. "So, _Good Hunter_ , I'm going to assume you've been having a problem with the douchebag below, correct?"

He looked at her, slightly confused. He appeared in thought for a few seconds, before finally responding. "Yes. However, it would be 'douchebags', as there are more than one."

She snickered.

"Your blood should help, although it will still be difficult."

She clasped her hands together, and rocked forward on her toes. "I propose a better idea. Why don't you position yourself by the doorway, and I shoot at them from here?"

"My lady, you are a _terrible_ shot."

She grinned, and pulled out the Evelyn, loading a few bullets in the chamber. "How much do you want to bet?"

"My lady?"

"Make a wager, beast-boy. I bet you one of the stones, currently in my pocket, that I can hit that asshole in the head on the first shot."

His eyebrow raised and he crossed his arms. "Firstly, the weapon is broken. Secondly, stones are not very credible currency."

"Wrong on both accounts. Okay, maybe just on one. I had the old man show me how to fix this, _and_ we tested it. As for the stones, maybe. They were shiny though." She shrugged her shoulders.

Alex scratched the back of his neck. While he liked the idea of having a helping hand, he doubted how much of an actual _help_ she would be. He also did not know if she would return at the lamppost upon death. She did not heal like he did, as apparent during the first time he found her, and when he carried her back from Central Yharnam. The thought bothered him.

"I will allow it, this once. However, should anything happen, please Natalie, get out of here as fast as you can."

She smiled, and dropped to the floor, crawling over to the edge, hiding herself by the few pots that remained on the side. He snapped his wrist, transforming his weapon, as he readied himself by the door.

She pulled her gun out in front of her, aiming through the scope she had attached. It was basically a monocle, but beggars can't be choosers. With enough testing, she was able to adjust it so the accuracy was dead on. Her dad had taken her on a hunting trip every year, ever since she was ten, up until he had gotten sick. She had learned a lot about the ins and outs of guns; how to shoot, how to care for them.

She admitted, though…repairing revolutionary revolvers was not one of her specialties.

The head of the prick that shot at her came into view. It was hard to make out any facial features in the near pitch blankness, but what she did see was not pleasant. He appeared to have gouged his eyes out.

She closed her left eye and pulled the trigger. She heard the ringing of the shot in the large cathedral-like room, as it echoed off the walls. Her right eye stayed open, watching the events that unfolded. She saw the hunter fall to their knees, then flop to the side.

Another figure was sprinting its way across the grating, and she fired, missing.

"Shit. Incoming!"

She jumped up, racing towards Alex. He stood ready, his legs slightly spread, and his gloved hands gripped around his fierce weapon. It was impressive to see him in his "natural element". She was on the other side of the doorway, hiding behind the wall. The Evelyn was in her right hand, and her pulse raced.

Alex noticed. Her blood moved faster, and he caught himself glancing over to her. She was braced against the wall, her eyes intently staring at the entrance, waiting to fire another shot into the insane Hunter heading their way. His inner beast growled, and his eyes wandered down the length of her-

He felt the bullet enter his chest, knocking him back. The sound of the Hunter's pistol boomed in his ears, and he felt his head smack against the ground. Part of his heart had ripped to shreds, and oozed out the back of his chest. His vision started to fade, and he panicked, reaching a shaking hand towards the female, still hidden. Her eyes locked with his, terror written on them.

 _Hurry, little ones…_

[-]

Natalie saw the bullet impact Alex's chest, knocking him back a few feet. Blood poured out of the wound instantly, and she saw a large, red puddle start to grow underneath him.

She wanted to scream.

The footsteps of the other Hunter neared, and she held her breath. They rushed in, oblivious of her presence at the door, looking over his bleeding corpse, bending down to rummage through the body. Her face was filled with rage, as she quietly stepped forward, aiming the pistol at their head, pulling the trigger.

Brains splattered on Alex's corpse, as the Hunter keeled over, dead.

She threw her gun down and dropped down next to Alex, kicking the body of his killer away. She wiped some pieces of the organ off his face, and held his head. She pulled his face covering down, seeing a river of blood pour of his mouth.

Tears fell, and she started to sob, rocking back and forth over his body on the ground. Her cries echoed in the large room, making her sob even harder. She was alone now. Left to live in this nightmare by herself.

 _But she wasn't._

Below, a hidden third Hunter emerged from the prison depths. He saw the body of his deranged comrade on the floor in front of him. He glanced up, seeing the head of a hunter's hat, moving back and forth, as sobbing was heard.

He loaded his cannon, and aimed at the upper level, firing.

As luck would have it, Natalie had her head lowered, as she continued to have a mental breakdown over her fallen companion. Her ears were shattered by the sound of a loud explosion, as rubble poured down from the wall next to her. Her thoughts snapped back to reality, as she realized there was _one more_ …

She jumped up, grabbing her gun, and headed out the opposite entrance. She immediately froze, as a beam of light formed on the steps in front of her, and everything in its path to started to burst into flames. She ran back in, skidding to a stop.

He was gone. His body was gone…

Another loud boom fired and she ducked, as rubble crashed on her back. She gritted her teeth. They obviously weren't going to come up here, and would fire at her all day. She looked at the doorway where the dead Hunter had come in from. She would have to go to them. She crawled to the door, then jumped to her feet once she cleared it. Running along, she took in the sight of the city she found herself in.

It was massive. The moon was a blood red color, casting a macabre feel in the atmosphere. All the trees were dead, and rubble surrounded the buildings and pathways. It was like a nuclear bomb had been dropped. She ran past a chair, and did a double-take, running back. It was a skeleton…sitting in a chair, with a metal cage on its head. She looked at the hands and feet; they hadn't been bound…

Her eyes glanced up, and her mouth fell open, as she stepped backwards a few times, in shock. It was like a grasshopper from hell. Some, spindly black thing, with an enormous head, staring at her with hundreds of yellow, grotesque eyes. It watched her, and she watched it.

She heard the steps of someone coming. She saw a side path, and took that, positioning herself behind the dead tree. An enormous man was ascending, carrying a large, metal pipe in his left hand.

 _Uh oh…_

She hugged the tree, watching him from behind it, hoping that he wouldn't figure out her position. She had her gun in her right hand, and gripped it nervously.

He walked past her location, oblivious to her presence. She quietly snuck out, and followed him. His attire made a decent amount of noise, as metal clinked with each step. He wore a thick, heavy helmet, underneath a coarse looking hood.

She laughed to herself. The moron had no peripheral vision in that thing.

He reached the doorway, and looked in, trying to locate her presence. She took a step forward with her right foot, and stretched her arm out, aiming at their back. She was unsure if her bullet would puncture his helmet or not, and would rather hit what tissue she could. She pulled the trigger.

 ** _click_**

Her arm dropped, as he turned around. She knew she was dead. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate.

She felt something warm and wet splash on her face. She opened her eyes, and saw the gory insides of the Hunter, pushed forward through their chest. Blood poured and pooled at their feet, as a painful grunt was heard. She saw bits of bone and metal, and heard the sickening tear of flesh as it made its way back out.

The Hunter fell forward, dead. She looked back up. Her face still stunned with shock.

"Alex?"

His eyes glanced to hers, and he stepped over the corpse, walking to her. She looked at him, an incredulous expression of amazement and confusion. She put her hand where she saw the hole in his chest, not more than five minutes ago.

There was a tear in his leather vest. She probed further, lifting the material up to catch a peak of what was underneath it. The skin only showed a thin scar, as though it had never happened.

Large blue eyes looked back to his in disbelief; her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as her mouth slightly hung open. "How…?"

He gently grabbed her hand. "We are done here, for now."

[-]

"Who is this dude again?"

They were Old Yharnam. He had visited Djura once before, asking him for advice on how to manage the beast blood. _She_ had popped up in conversation, and his old friend had agreed to meet the woman. Djura no longer dreamed; perhaps he could provide better insight on the matter at hand?

She kept yanking at the collar of Maria's attire. An image flashed in his mind of her lovely face. It was becoming confusing to him, to sort his feelings out. His unnatural infatuation with the doll had been quelled the moment he shoved his cleaver through the chest of her muse. He felt…guilt, every time he came to the Hunter's Dream. Grabbing her graceful, perfect hand, and seeing nothing but the image of Maria bleeding out in his arms.

Then there was Natalie. He thought back to what almost transpired over the corpse of Gascgoine's eldest daughter. He was not going to stop it, and that concerned him. He had done his best to keep the beast controlled after the first bout of inappropriate thoughts, but it was growing increasingly more difficult. Her blood was useful, but she was simply an unfortunate caught up in the nightmare. There was nothing more to it. There _couldn't_ be more to it.

Her ability to kill two of the three Hunters of Yahar'Gul was quite impressive, if not mostly luck. He had arrived back, just in time, before the third had a chance to exact their revenge on her. He needed to be more careful with where she traveled. She was not skilled enough to engage in physical combat. Luck, eventually, runs out at some point.

She tripped over a stone, and banged the edge of her toe. "Son of a fucking bitch!" She was hopping around, hissing.

He laughed. She was also quite entertaining, albeit crude. However, it had started to grow on him, and he found himself becoming less offended by her mannerisms. In fact, he rather enjoyed her occasional outbursts, as a sort of frivolous relief to the horrors around them.

They had come the back way, and he lobbed blood cocktails at strategic intersections, grabbing Natalie's hand to hurry them past the aggressive beasts. The problem with visiting Djura was that he forbade any harm to the denizens that wandered the streets. They would not always extend the same courtesy towards himself, though.

They rushed up some stairs, as a few beasts pounced on a cocktail in the corner. She accidently tripped on some rubble, signaling their position, and he quickly lifted her up, taking off in a full sprint. He heard growls behind them. He dodged to the right, and rushed into the little side passage that housed a ladder which connected the two levels.

"Get on my back!" She jumped out of his arms, and pulled herself up, latching her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. He started to climb as fast as he could. A growl resonated below them, and she tightened her embrace in fear.

He gasped. "Too….tight…"

She moved them around his shoulders, as a panicked whimper slipped out of her mouth. She made the mistake of looking down. Three, bipedal _things_ were jumping feverishly, scratching at the stone walls and snapping their jaws into thin air.

"Holyshit, oh my god, oh my fucking god! Faster!"

Sweat poured down his temples. She wasn't drastically heavy, but the added weight made this simple task a little more physically demanding than he was used to. She had stuck her head in the crook of his neck, breathing rapidly, as her arms trembled around him.

Maybe…it was a bad idea to bring her here.

They finally reached the top, and he pulled them up, keeping on his hands and knees while she rolled off, and scattered away from the edge. He stayed on the floor, recovering his breath. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind, as he looked over at her. He'd probably have to use another mark to get her out of here.

His gaze returned to the floor, as he breathed a bit more. Two small boots invaded his vision. He looked up, seeing her outstretched hand and a debonair smile.

"At least I can help you to your feet, after you carried my fat ass up an insanely long ladder."

He took it, and she braced herself backwards, grunting a bit as she pulled. She was…surprisingly strong, and he flew forward, crashing into her. She toppled over, as he landed on top, their heads partway out of the entranceway into the upper level streets. He remained there, looking down, as she locked eyes with him. His beast growled, restless.

Her eyes were focused on his, as her nose twitched slightly. He reached up pulling his face covering down, leaning in-

"Achoo!" She sneezed in his face.

She sniffed. "Oh man, I'm sorry. This place is hell on my allergies." She reached up, taking his glasses off, accidently kneeing him the crotch while scrambling to sit up. He grunted and rolled over; she hadn't even noticed. She was trying to wipe them off with the collar of her shirt, holding them up to the sky to see if there were any smears.

She looked at him, slightly kneeling on the ground next to her, like he was still winded. "Hey, you ok? Here, I cleaned them."

He pushed himself back up, taking his spectacles out of her hand and putting them back on his face. She jumped up, dusting herself off. He reached down to grab his weapon, and she bowed, sticking her arm out the doorway.

"Ladies first." She wiggled her eyebrows, a sarcastic grin plastered on her mouth.

He walked ahead, and she straightened up, still grinning. He twisted around fast, coming up behind her and giving her a hefty shove through the doorway. She stumbled forward, laughing.

A voice shouted down from above.

"Well, well, how did you get in here? Ah, it's no matter. What brings you to Old Yharnam again, my friend?"

Natalie furrowed her eyebrows, squinting her eyes, looking up. She caught a blob of gray, but that was it. She turned to Alex.

"Is he drunk?"

[-]

"I no longer dream, but I was once a hunter too."

Natalie was sitting on the floor of the tower top, her legs crossed and tucked underneath. She had her elbows on her knees, and her head in her palms. This man was a functioning alcoholic. There really was no other explanation. The collar on her neck kept itching, and she wondered if Alex would take offense to her ripping it off.

The drunkard had some menacing, bizarre looking weapon hanging out of his right hand. It looked like some sort of, steampunk inspired reciprocating saw. His outfit was covered in ripped, gray cloth, that jiggled every time he moved. He wore a hat, sort of similar to Alex's, except gray. He covered his left eye with a cloth that ran over his face diagonally. His face possessed a decent number of scars, and permanent frown wrinkles were etched around the sides of his mouth.

"The beasts do not venture above, and mean no harm to anyone."

She made a T-shape with her hands. "Whoa, whoa, time out here One Eyed Willie. You do realize that, no less than, twelve beasts tried to kill us on the way here?"

She put her hands in front of her face, and shook her head. "Look, I don't mean any offense, but I think you might have been stuck down here a little too long. You are obviously on crack. If one of these assholes tries to kill me, you better damn well believe I'm fighting back."

Djura looked at Alexander, who did nothing but shrug, and go back to cleaning the bits of flesh out of his weapon.

"Of course, I thought as much. You are a true hunter-"

She made a loud, buzzing noise. "Incorrect. I am not a hunter. I'm not even from this circus." She waived her arms around, signaling the entirety of where they sat. She pointed to Alex. "Ask him. I can't fight worth a shit."

"You possess a trick weapon…" Djura motioned to her cane.

She grinned. "Yeah, that thing is pretty kick ass. You ever seen one? Look what it does!" She leaned over to grab it, and a bullet landed by her hand. She yelped and crawled backwards. Alex didn't even look up. He was content to stay out of it.

"Did…did you just _shoot at me_?"

The older man stood there, holding a small pistol in his hand. "Yes."

She took off her glove, and threw it at his face. "You drunken asshole!" He batted it out of his way, and put the pistol back. This woman was obviously of no threat. He looked over at Alexander. The Hunter was concerned that he was turning, claiming that it was becoming harder to control. Djura did not notice this, though. The beast blood always made aggressive emotions easier to surface, but the man appeared to control it…better than any he had seen. His gut feelings were, usually, accurate, and had saved him on more than one occasion.

He looked back at her flushed form. Her blue eyes wild and her cheeks were red. Some of her hair had fallen out of her binding, and framed her delicate face. He partially grinned. He had an inclination as to what the problem was.

"Fuck you and your fucking fort. I'm out of here." She marched over and snatched her glove up, then stomped up to Alex, kicking the derelict, stone pedestal he sat on. "Saddle up Apone, _we are leaving_."

"Are you just raving mad? You reached for your weapon."

She swirled around, stepping up to the older man's face. "You don't shoot at unarmed people. That's not considered _polite_."

"If you had grabbed your weapon, would you have still been unarmed?"

She stared at him with gritted teeth. She threw her hands up. "Fine!" Returning to her seat, she kicked the cane across the platform. It clicked and the long metal chain popped out.

She put a hand on her hip, frustrated, making a gesture with her hand towards the cane. "It does _that_."

Djura laughed for the first time since he could remember.

[-]

She was staring down at one of the large, wolf-like beasts. It kept clawing up the stone wall, snarling, biting into the air.

She looked up to see Djura watching them with an intense glare. She gave him the finger.

"Maybe he'll fall off someday, and we won't have to keep playing 'hide and go seek' with rabid, mutated dogs."

"He doesn't mean any harm."

She scowled at Alex. "Jesus, you're starting to sound like him. We might need to check your blood alcohol level."

Alex wasn't looking forward to this. The last time had been immensely painful. Natalie had also been unconscious, and did not bear witness to his screams. He wasn't sure how she would handle it, but mostly he detested the thought of appearing weak. He grabbed her shoulder, and she snapped her head towards him.

"This…is going to be a little violent, okay?"

She titled her head, and nodded slowly. He pulled her into his chest, wrapping an arm around her. She stiffened.

"Hold tight."

He pulled out another mark, focusing on the faded, black symbol. It started to glow red again, and the pain flared in his mind. Slowly, it increased, until the parchment caught on fire. He screamed, as the agonizing searing in his brain returned. He felt her arms tightly wrap around him, and a soft hand cradled the back of his head, forcing it forward.

His eyes rolled back, losing consciousness for a brief second. He came to, seeing the familiar cobblestone of the Hunter's Dream underneath his boots. The smell of roses entered his senses, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

He felt a hand move up and down his back, in a soothing motion. He snapped his eyes open, and jumped backwards. Natalie startled, as he ripped himself out of her embrace; her arms still stuck out, a concerned look on her face.

"Hey, it's ok. It's just me." She stepped forward, touching his shoulder, glancing up into his eyes. "Are you ok? Do you want me to look you over? Your pupils are a little dilated."

She reached up, gently pulling the cloth over his face down. Blood. She had a feeling…

She stuck her right hand in her pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief, sticking it under his nose. "Here, hold this. Let's go find something more sanitary." She grabbed his left hand and pulled him behind her, up the steps. He passed the doll on the way, who merely looked at him with an expressionless face.

"Welcome home, Good Hunter."

[-]

He found himself sitting on top of her pile of books, while she kept wiping the blood coming out from his nose. The mark must have ruptured a blood vessel. It wasn't the first time something like this happened, but he decided to let her fuss over it. It seemed to make her feel better. He had noticed that she would become slightly fidgety when stressed.

She rolled up some thin cloth, and shoved them up his nose. "Tampons would probably work better." She laughed, thinking back to her Beavis and Butthead days.

She felt bad for the schizophrenic in front of her. It was the first time she had seen him in so much pain, and it kind of worried her. He was always so calm and focused whenever they came up against any obstacles or "beasts".

Well, not always calm and focused. He was also aggressive and disturbing. However, he had never screamed in agony. The screaming was new, and the blood gushing out of his nose was also new.

"What's a tampon?" His voice sounded nasally, and she laughed.

"A feminine hygiene product. Used during your period."

He raised an eyebrow. "Period?"

She glanced to the side, stopping her current task of cleaning his upper lip. "Um…", she snapped her fingers, her eyes blankly staring at the floor, "menstruation. Sorry, sometimes I forget terms that aren't used as much." She went back to wiping his lip.

"Do you menstruate?"

She stepped back, her eyebrows pushed together. "Sometimes, you ask me the weirdest shit..." She shook her head, and continued prodding at his face. "Yes, of course. Although, now that I think of it, I haven't since I've come here. I've also not ate nor drank either. This place, I think it stops your biological functions."

He licked his lip of some of the dried blood. She noticed and rolled her eyes, turning around to find some more disinfectant in the glass cabinets.

She menstruates. Maybe he could leave her with Djura for a bit, until she started her cycle? He thought a bit longer, but he doubted that she would agree to that. It would probably not be a good idea to take her to Oeden Chapel. Arianna had given birth to a deformed infant, and he had no doubt that Natalie would suffer the same fate.

Besides, his inner beast detested the idea. **_She was his._**

He shook his head, snapping himself out of the thought.


	8. Chapter 8

He plummeted his saw cleaver through the old woman's chest, silencing that horrible ringing of the bell. Her blood still pumped through his veins, giving him a renewed sense of purpose. The hellish chanting became louder, as he took the hidden ladder that led to the street below.

Caskets full of fused bodies, crawled along the murky, damp streets. The moans and whimpers of countless men and women leaked from its grotesque form. The atrocities of the village were the worst he had ever seen in the nightmare yet. The ringing in the distance grew louder, as he kept to the shadows, avoiding the gaze of the unfortunate creature.

A large clearing opened in front of him, as he stepped forward into an expansive courtyard. Long balconies lined the sides, with a raised bridge that interconnected them. On the other side of the clearing were steps, leading up towards an entrance of a different building.

He continued moved forward, his cleaver gripped in his bloodied hand. A foreboding doom lingered in the atmosphere. Above him, the paleblood moon shined with its reddish, white light. A bell rang above him.

His head snapped up, as he saw bell-ringers emerge from the shadows. Each adding their own ring to the maddening inducing tone that grew. Alex put his hands over his ears, as he noticed a dark shadow form in the sky.

The moon had been shrouded in a black mist. The ringing became furious, as the unknown chanting beckoned to its peak. Before him, a splash of dark ichor fell from the sky, and covered the ground. He stepped back, his hands still over his ears.

The shrouded moon wiggled and squirmed, and a sickening, fleshy wetness roared above the ringing. He blinked, as he saw the bloodied arm of a person snake its way out of the blackness.

The hand was followed by a deformed head and torso. The opening in the shrouded moon ripped open further, and he saw fused bodies pour out. Hands and legs were entangled, merged in painful ways. He retched, vomiting the contents of his stomach in front of him, never removing his eyes from the terrible sight before him.

The creature fell from the dripping moon, and landed harshly on the ground. Steam arose from its hot and wet body, as it attempted to right itself. The first torso he had seen was positioned on top of the massive pile of people, each quietly groaning in misery. They had tried to create their own Great One. That is why he was snatched before. They were collecting people to fuse to their evil and corrupt God.

Its eyes fell on him.

He dashed forward, coming up to swipe across a living corpse being used as a foot. The creature reared, and swiped, knocking him back. He saw the large gouge reform on the corpse, as he noticed a low, red glare encircle the creature, as a bell's chime rang out. He looked up, noticing the bell-ringers still present. He would need to kill them first.

He dashed towards the opposite end of the courtyard, ducking inside a curving stairwell that lead to the upper level. The false God reared back, and slammed forward, sending a shockwave out. He found himself tumbling forward on the steps.

Her blood pumped through him, nursing his weakened bodied. His eyes shot open, and he quickly jumped to his feet, taking the stairs two at time. He ran to the first bell-ringer, and swiped his cleaver across her neck, watching her head tumble off the balcony. They were standing, three on each side, relatively an equal distance apart. The failed god below could only cry out, as its lifelines were cut down, one by one.

He took the opposite stairwell down, coming out behind the beast, and thrusting towards the side, hitting the area that served as its abdomen. Individual bodies squirmed in pain, and writhed about, aimlessly kicking and swiping with their bloodied extremities. The massive body swung around, as the torso up top leaned in, attempting to swat at him with a fused arm.

He fired his pistol in its head, and pushed his cleaver through its chest, puncturing through the back. It screamed in agony as its red ichor poured from its open wound, covering him in the putrid essence. His red eyes flared, and his beast roared, as he ripped the torso from the disgusting lump below.

It twitched and whimpered, before finally breathing one last hot puff of air. The massive, fused pile of bodies stilled, and the stench of death rose from the rotting corpses. Its blood spilled out, saturating the ground below. She shook his cape, getting some of the blood off. A lamppost in the distance came into view, and he knelt on one knee, lighting it. The light, caressing hands of the messengers grabbed at him, beckoning him back. Not yet…

He walked forward, into the abandoned, derelict building ahead. Skeletons adorning metal cages on their heads, lined the room. Each had been sitting in a high-backed chair, unbound, and willing. Nightmarish tree roots intertwined around the skeletons, as the flickering candle light casted strange shadows on the walls.

Towards the back, but placed in the middle, was a raised platform, bolstering a single corpse, not as decayed as the others surrounding them. Alex walked closer, peering down to get a better look. It was a man, or at least, used to be. He wore the student's attire of Byrgenwerth. His head had fallen forward, giving in to the great weight of the metal, hexagonal cage.

Alex reached out, touching the corpse. His vision faded, and he found himself being teleported to a different place. He looked around, seeing the enclosed walls of a building, barely lit. It looked familiar. His eyes saw the reflective glass of jars filled with ghastly contents, and deformed creatures in cages. It was the Lecture Building.

[-]

Alfred bowed, reaching out to take Natalie's hand, and placing a kiss on top. Her cheeks reddened, and she smiled, turning her head to the side.

The beast growled. He did not like this.

"My lady, it has been quite some time since I had beheld such beauty."

Natalie waived her hand dismissively, still shyly smiling. "You merely jest."

Alfred grinned, and straightened his posture, releasing her hand. Alex bared his teeth under his cloth mask. He never cared for Alfred, always finding him to be a little _too_ eager to exchange information. A treacherous rat under false pretenses, no doubt.

Natalie's reaction made his stomach churn, and the beast inside of him was quickly angering. She was enjoying this snake's company. There were no crude, vulgar remarks, or offensive behaviors. She was nothing but well-mannered and positively charming.

"Now, let's think up something to discuss…just tell me what piques your interest."

She smiled, her cheek's beet red. This guy was simply too much. It had been a long, _long_ time since anyone openly flirted with her. After spending the past few months with her current, moody companion, it was…well, _it was nice_.

"I, um…" She blushed, she was at a loss of words. Her brain was a flustered, and she turned away. "Please excuse me for a moment." She walked off and up the steps, ducking behind a pillar.

She was fanning her face. _Oh lord._ _Just…woo..._ Maybe it was her hormones, combined with the fact she hadn't been laid in over a year. She put her hands on her hips, and walked in a circle for a bit, trying to calm down. She giggled.

"I don't find the humor in this."

He was like a bucket of cold water after a sauna. It was just what she needed though. She waived her hand at him. "Look, it's been a while, okay? Not exactly used to being treated like an actual, functioning member of the female species."

Alex froze. Her comment…stung. He looked down at his gloved hands. How had he been treating her since he first found her? The very first time he laid eyes on her, he had almost killed her, not wanting to be bothered with the hassle. What kind of monster does that?

A monster like _him_.

He looked up. She was still fanning her face, the blush present. She had a sweet smile on her lips, and her blue eyes sparkled. Anger rose, once more.

"I think you should stay away from him"

Her head sharply snapped towards him, and her eyes narrowed. A miffed expression crossed her face. "Would you care to elaborate, _Mr. Pettrene_?" She had discovered his last name while rummaging through a stack of parchment one day. She had been looking for more ink; it wasn't her fault he kept leaving important documents out in plain sight.

He said nothing. He nervously wiggled his fingers, and looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact.

"Ah, I see. Do I sense a little _jealousy_ , hmm?" She had a devilish grin plastered on her face, and her eyes narrowed on him. "Although, I have no idea why. You are in love with the doll."

His eyes snapped back to hers. She held out her hand, shaking her head.

"It is none of my business. However, I truly hope that you do not think I am _that_ stupid to fall for the charms of an obvious nut job and user. Present company not included, of course." She winked, and walked past him, as his eyes followed her down the steps, back to Alfred.

"My sincerest apologies, as I needed a moment to collect myself after our arduous journey here." She stuck her arm in the crooked of his elbow, leaning her other hand across the front, and patting him. "Now, please, where we were? It has been ages since I could enjoy conversation with such handsome company."

[-]

"So, Captain Rat has a hard-on for killing Vilebloods. Are you sure it was a good idea to give him that summons?"

They were making their way to Oeden's Chapel. He knew it was a risk taking her here, but he wanted to see what her reaction would be. Her acknowledgement of his feelings towards the doll had changed his perception of her. She was observant…dangerously so. He also had a feeling that she would be able to sense the presence of _them._ He was going to test his theory.

She twirled around, and landed in a posture, with her left leg tucked behind her right. Her arms were spread out and up, in an elegant form, and her head bowed to the left, causing her torso to bend, similar to a crescent moon. She kicked her feet out, and followed up with a series of taps, ending with her right foot out, and titled up, leaning back on her cane. She took her hat off, and waived it in the air. "Tada! I was in tap dance as a kid. Maybe that's why I like this cane so much."

She slammed it down letting the chain unwind, and thrusted her body forward, swinging her arm. The chain latched around a crumbling statue, and she yanked back. She wasn't strong enough, and ended up losing balance, causing her feet to slip out underneath her, as she landed on her rear.

"On second thought, fuck this cane." He laughed, walking past her.

She really didn't care how she acted around him, or mostly what he thought. They had progressed beyond that point. In between the bloodshed, the horrors, his apparent death and Christ-like resurrection, and her natural ability to become gravely injured, she felt that they had earned "good friend" status, by now.

She looked at him as he strolled on by, content to ignore her. She wrinkled her forehead. Well, maybe more like the "the only two living and functioning people" status. There were others, like the blonde they had just visited, but they weren't part of "the Dream". The old man would randomly disappear, and Ms. Dolly wasn't technically "alive", although that could be heavily debated. Anyways, it was just him and her, take it or leave it.

They headed upwards, along the winding streets, walking past a scenic outlook over the city. She diverted from him, and skipped up, putting her hands on the old, black fencing that served as a railing.

"Wow! Look at this place! It's like straight out of a fantasy novel. _Incredible_ …"

He leaned back, placing his hand around his chest strap. The paleblood moon casted an alien light over their surroundings. Her long brown hair had fallen out of her binding a while back, and he ran his fingers over the ribbon in his pocket. Her hair waved slightly, as she looked around. Her blue eyes snapped to him, with a radiant smile.

She looked around, and raised her arms up in a grand gesture. "Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God's handwriting – a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, every fair sky, every fair flower." She locked eyes with him, then made a splendidly gestured bow. "My first semester of college. A mandatory humanities class, covering American authors."

She straightened her posture, still smiling, and skipped ahead. She had her cane held in both hands, upside down. She stopped, spreading her legs shoulder-width apart, and leaned over. There was a rock on the ground.

"Fore!"

She twisted her torso, and swiped the cane at the rock. It made contact, and the rock flew ahead, smashing through a glass window.

She cringed. "No one lives there, right?"

He saw the form of a beast move within the shadows of the shattered window. "No, not anymore."

They moved onwards, and the chapel came into view.

She suddenly grabbed his arm, yanking him back with her abnormally strong arm. Her demeanor instantly changed from playful to terrified. She pointed a trembling finger straight ahead.

"What…the fuck… _is that_?"

Ah, so she could see them. He grinned under the cloth, and patted her hand.

"A kin…of the Great Ones."

She took another step back, pulling him with her. "Nope, we are not going anywhere near that."

He touched her hand. "It will not touch you. It has never touched me." He looked back at the Amygdala. Except…for when he entered the Old Hunter's Dream. He stared at a spot in the graveyard that circled them. There was, also, that time he was picked up and thrown.

She kept staring at the chapel, shaking her head. "No, no, not the giant, anorexic grasshopper from hell, outside. It's the black thing, _inside_."

He snapped his head up, looking at the entrance. He squinted his eyes; nothing.

She backed up again, pulling him with her. Her voice was panicked. "Please, Alex. I am serious. I don't want to go in there. Don't force me. Please…" She was gripping his arm, and he grabbed it, holding her hand, and directing her back from where they came. He interlaced their fingers, and she squeezed, hard.

Yes. She was _very_ intelligent.

[-]

He did not know if it was a bad idea to bring her to the Lecture Building or not. There was also _him_. However, his curiosity had won, and he was interested in observing the reactions between _him_ and _her_.

It was simply a question of getting her there, unharmed.

"Is this the college?" She whispered it in his ear. She was crouched next to him, as he peeked around the corner of a door, keeping an eye out for any movement.

"Yes…and no. Outside of the nightmare, it was. Inside the nightmare, it's merely a broken figment of deranged minds." He kept his voice low and hushed.

"I like it when you talk dirty to me." His head slowly turned towards her, his eyes looking at her with disbelief. She flashed him a ridiculous grin. Her eyes twinkled, slightly, and she snorted.

He shook his head, and moved forward, keeping his stature slightly bent. They hid within the shadows, sliding along the walls when possible. Below him, he could hear the sickening squishes of the former students, having been mutated into grotesque, formless masses, that slithered along the wooden floors.

She followed close behind, the Evelyn in her right hand. He realized he would need to take some time to train her and break the habit. Gehrman had only focused on developing her skills with the cane. He never progressed towards using both a firearm and primary. Why, he did not know. Maybe because she was not a true Hunter, or because his long duration in the Dream had finally affected his mind? She would need to learn to shoot with her left, though.

His hand found the handle of a door, and he quietly twisted the nob, pushing it forward. A small squeak echoed, and he froze, straining his ears for any response. Silence pervaded, and the familiar sounds of splashes emanated from below. He ducked in, motioning her to follow with his hand.

It was a small study, lined with books, and a table at the far end. Some texts had been left open, as though the original inhabitants had left in a panic, leaving everything in their escape. He lit the small lantern on his belt, and walked forward, glancing over the various titles spread out before them. Natalie positioned herself behind him, off to the right, against a bookshelf.

 _Honestly... They are within a nightmare, sneaking around to hide from things that made squishy noises, and he's trying to check out books._ She crossed her arms, and sighed. It would probably be awhile.

She felt a drip on her face, and brought her hand up, wiping it off. It was a slimy, white substance. She looked up, and her jaw dropped as her eyes became big.

Some… _thing_ …was attached to the ceiling, making a slow movement towards Alex's oblivious form. It was white, and tattered clothing stuck to it awkwardly. The mass vibrated and languid waves flowed along the disgusting, slimy surface. She saw, what appeared to be, a head, and a sickly, white neck stretch itself in length, as it prepared to drop on her unsuspecting colleague.

She dashed forward and shoved him, hard. He flew ahead into the bookshelf on the other side of the room, a look of surprise on his face. The massive, white blob crashed to the floor in front of her. The ghastly head turned, twisting abnormally at the neck, like the Exorcist. She held her hands up, backing away, as she felt the front of her body get sprayed in the white, putrid slime. She went into shock, tumbling back over a pile of books, and falling to the floor.

Alex swiped his saw cleaver a few times across the creature, until it made a ghastly groan, falling in on itself in a semi-liquid pile on the floor. He looked up to see Natalie, sitting on the floor, her arms bent out in front of her, frozen. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was distorted.

He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, and walked to her, crouching down. He wiped some of the slime off her face. Her head shook, and her eyes refocused, glancing around rapidly before settling on him.

"It…it puked on me."

[-]

They managed to find the room above the human-headed spider apostate. To his fortune, he saw the broken floor boards in the corner. Looking down, he could see the room below. He motioned to Natalie, and squatted, leveraging himself down.

Before him the large, hybrid spider stared obsessively out of the crack in the door. He had not noticed the presence behind him, much more focused on taunting those that past on the outside. Alex walked up, and kicked some rubbish behind the spider. He yelped, crawling on the table next to him in a panic, his long, black insect legs twitching erratically.

"Oh, this cannot be, you cannot be... No, you didn't... ...How did this come to pass?"

Alex crossed his arms, titling his head to make eye contact with the liar.

"Hmph! Now, wait just a moment... Do you think ill of me, me?"

Both of their heads snapped towards the sound of a squeak. Natalie was waiving her legs about, hanging for dear life to the broken floor board above. He had forgotten about her in his anger to confront the worthless and devious being in front of him.

Her arms gave out, and she fell the rest of the way onto a table below. A painful groan filled the room.

"Thanks for the help… _pal_."

Patches' legs twitched, as he smelled the sweet blood of the female in the corner. He went to move toward her, and Alex stepped forward. A low growl was heard, and he saw the red haze form in the Hunter's eyes. He moved back to his previous position. A nervous, yet malicious, laugh erupted.

"Ahh, well met. This is a most pleasing encounter. Most pleasing _indeed._ " He was facing Natalie, directing his voice in her direction.

She groaned again, sitting up, focusing her eyes around the room. Her head turned at ease, slowly taking in the new surroundings. It stopped on the giant spider in front of her. Her eyes went big.

"The sight of you is as balm to my eyes, my sweet lady. The fates have smiled upon me, to behold the divine, once more. A gift from the Godheads, truly." He could smell her alluring blood, moving faster. How fortunate for his ridiculously naïve associate to claim such a prize.

Natalie's mouth hung open, as she turned her sights towards Alex. Her eyes full of questions and utter disbelief.

Patches turned back to Alex. "No matter. Such details are trifling. We're fast friends by now. Let this express what words cannot." A small, stone was pulled from underneath the table, and handed to the Hunter. Alex cautiously touched the stone, but did not take possession.

"Oh, doubt me not, sweet compeer. What is friendship, but a chance encounter?" Patched turned back towards the female, laughing insidiously.

"My lady, please, be not afraid. For I am not as ill-mannered as you may think. Come closer."

She held up her hands, pushing back a bit. "N..nnn…no…"

"But my dear lady, you're in company of a beast of the field, treading a measure with the gods. What have you to fear?"

She stared, blinking.

"A name, for such a divine blessing as yourself, my lady?

She looked back at Alex, who had turned to open the door, obviously finished with his business here.

"Tanya." There was no way she was telling this _thing_ anything personal.

"Ahh, well met. This is, as I have said, a most pleasing encounter. You see, I must depart erelong. My god is lost to me, so I must away to find another." He laughed nervously.

Natalie was still frozen and terrified on the table. She had arachnophobia. Not in the sense that she would completely lose her shit when she saw one, but enough that she would run around the house, screaming, looking for a fly-swatter. His bloated, arachnid body twitched, as long, grotesque legs found friction on various parts of his immediate surroundings. Alex looked at her, and motioned her towards the door. She shook her head.

"Ah, I see. Well, I shall take my leave. You do take care now, love." He winked at her, and clamored out of the doorway, into the darkness.

Natalie jumped off the table, and ran towards Alex. "We are leaving… _ **now**_ _._ "

They hurried out the door, and into the opposite room across the hall. This was where he had first entered the Lecture Building, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Kneeling, the messengers started to appear, bobbing lazily up and down, reaching out for both him and her.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned. The spider man's face was right next to hers.

"Would you be a dear and give your old friend a kiss goodbye, hmm?"

She screamed.

[-]

She kept hitting the cane on the stone pavement, then twisting the handle, watching it transform back and forth. She was in her normal scrub, training clothes, waiting for the old man.

He was nowhere to be found. She sighed.

"It was terrifying, Ms. Dolly. It was like a massive, formless blob of black tendrils, seeping out of every crack of the building. I cannot believe people actually _live_ there." What she had seen at Oeden Chapel had terrified her…even more than the half man, half spider. The very, creepy and disturbingly flirtatious creature. She shivered.

"The Good Hunter, he saved you?"

She frowned, looking up at the doll with an incredulous look. "No, _your boyfriend_ , didn't _save_ me."

She tilted her wooden head. "What is a boyfriend?"

"Similar to a lover."

"I do not understand. I love all of the hunters. I even love you. Is it not why I was created?"

Natalie smiled. "Ms. Dolly…never change. You are perfect, just as you are." She jumped off the wall, and headed up the steps, looking back at the confused doll, laughing. She turned her head around just in time to see herself slam into chest.

"It appears that I'll be instructing you today."

"Fantastic." Her response was muffled.

She stepped back. He had removed the coat and hat again, and appeared rather relaxed. He nodded towards the training area, and Natalie turned on her feet, skipping ahead with her cane.

"If you're going through hell, keep going." She swiped at a bush, as she strolled into the back lot, attempting a horrible British accent. Alex had brought a different weapon she had never seen him use; the metal mace. She kind of looked at him, and then back at the weapon.

"Today, we work on building your resistance to bolt." He lifted the mace up, then sharply jerked his arm outwards, at a diagonal. The outside of the metal mace erupted into a sizzling crack of blue sparks. Her eyes became big, and she snapped her head back up.

His eyes had narrowed on her, and a malicious grin formed on his lips. He dashed forward, swinging. She dodged, swirling around and smacking him in his ass with her cane. He reached behind, yanking it out of her grasp, throwing it about thirty yards to the left.

"Not fair!" She sprinted off towards it, and barely felt the mace touch her butt. A shock flared through her, and she shrieked, jumping to the side, doubling back. There was a large tree in the middle of the field, and she dashed behind it, putting her back up against the trunk. She looked behind her, assessing the scorch marks on her ass.

"Jesus Christ…" That would be incredibly sore later.

All of a sudden, two arms appeared on each side of her, and she found herself being pushed back into the tree, as they locked her in. Alex had that look in his eyes again; the red haze slowly becoming more defined the longer they stayed in their positions. They looked _hungry_. He tilted his head, bringing his face close to hers, and inhaling.

"Your blood…"

 _Oh no…_

Her voiced trembled a bit. "Hey there, Alex...how are we feeling, eh? Good? Yeah, let's just…go back to the Workshop. Have a cup of coffee, okay?" She nervously stared at the ground the whole time. His hot breath poured over her ears, and she could hear a small, strained growl. His head lowered into the crook of her neck, and he ran his tongue over her throat.

She panicked, and did the only thing she could think of. Grabbing his arms, she rammed her knee in his crotch, and shoved him back as hard as she could. He fell to the ground, and she sprinted out of the training area. She felt like her heart was going to explode. She flew past Ms. Dolly, causing her skirts to bellow. Skidding across the wooden floor, she put her hands in her hair. Where the fuck was she going to go?

What about that cranky drunkard? Could she even get there without being mauled? She glanced back at the entrance to the workshop. It was worth a try, and better than staying here with _him_. He had lost his goddamn mind.

She saw his gross bone weapon on the table. That would have to do. She snatched it, then headed out the side entrance, and snuck behind one of the gravestones. She had to get to the other side, where Old Yharnam was written. She had been fortunate: they had gone to this location once before, for something trivial. He had considered it one of the few places that he would _allow_ her to travel with him to.

Alex came into view. He looked, well…

 _Pissed_.

He moved up the stairs, and she slowly eased down the opposite side, matching his movements. He disappeared in the workshop, and she bolted, skidding towards the Tombstone. She put her hand on the Old Yharnam writing.

" _Please, please hurry."_ She saw the little zombie hands pop up, and reach out, grasping whatever they could. Her vision started to become blurry, as she heard a yell.

"Where are you going?!"

She raised her hand, giving him the middle finger.

[-]

This was probably not her best idea. By far.

She was barefoot, in ragged shorts, with a strip of cloth covering her chest. She held one of those gross weapons, with absolutely no fucking idea how to use it. She quickly ran out of the chamber, into the musty, burning streets. Fires dotted the landscape at random, and low growls of beasts echoed through the abandoned city. She ran over to the edge of a roofing extension, waiving her hands.

"Djura!"

She saw a gray dot move in the distance.

"Woman, what are you doing here?!"

"Can you come get me?! I'm incompetent!"

Silence, as the echo of her voice died.

"Hang on!"

 _Sweet_. She ran up to the chamber, to make sure nothing had come through. The lamppost sat there, silent and dim. She nervously walked around, her hands sweaty, causing the weapon to slip out from time to time. She heard footsteps heading near her, and she jumped out of the chamber, through the old wooden doors.

The grey cladded man was crossing the bridge. She waived her arms, running towards him.

"Oh my god, I am _so happy_ to see you. I take back everything I said before." She reached out hugging him. He awkwardly patted her once on her back.

"Why are you here? Where is Alexander? And _where_ are your clothes?"

She shook her head, and started to walk in a circle. "I train in these. Look, I don't know what happened. He just, snapped, or something. I snuck out, grabbing…this." She held out the weapon with a disgusted look on her face.

Djura recognized it. Alexander would _not_ be thrilled.

"Look girl, I realize that all this can be a little much, but you should probably take that back-"

"No! I mean…", she looked down at the weapon in her hand. "Ok, so maybe I panicked a bit, but he really spooked me this time. Also, my ass hurts. Can't I just…hang out here, for a few?" She grabbed at the hair that had started to fall out, continuing to walk in a circle. "I don't know where else to go…"

Djura groaned. He _did not_ want to get involved in this. However, he felt as though he couldn't leave her here, even though her death was no concern of his…

He sighed, irritated. "Fine. Stay close."

She gave him a hopeful smile, as he took her hand, pulling her forward down into the burning city.

[-]

"I guess I don't understand. He said he was trying to build your resistance. What's the big deal?"

She was lying on her stomach, her legs kicked up. She felt ridiculous; she hadn't laid on the floor like that since she was a kid. However, her butt hurt way too much to apply any sort of pressure. Her head was completely buried in her palms, and she spoke into the floor.

"It's not that my ass hurts, I understand that portion of training: no pain, no gain. Honestly, Gehrman's sessions can get way more brutal. It was…his beast side. It came out again. He…licked me."

"Licked you?"

"Yes, my neck. He had me cornered on a tree trunk. He keeps prattling on about my blood all the time. Is that common with all the people who inject themselves with this shit?"

Djura groaned again. He, _definitely,_ did not want to be involved in this.

"That is more of a Vileblood trait, but in general, yes, it is common with those tied to the Hunter's Dream. I, myself, had the bloodlust when I was younger."

"Vileblood? Who the executioners want to kill?"

He shook his head, not wanting to discuss further. Alexander's business was his own, and he did not involve himself in the politics of above.

"You need to go back."

She snapped her head up. "Are you fucking crazy? Do you have any idea how pissed off he-"

Hands appeared on the ladder, and Djura walked to the other side of the platform, content to ignore the other two present. His eyes scanned over the landscape. Alexander had no blood on him, and no weapon, but that does not mean he was defenseless. He was an efficient killer. The deal was that he left the citizens of Old Yharnam alone, and Djura was determined with assuring that the agreement was honored.

She yelped, as Alex pulled himself up. He was wearing the same outfit as when she left him, and had no weapons. He carried the same, pissed-off look. Stumbling to her feet, she ran to the edge of the platform.

He ignored her, walking towards his weapon and swiping it off the ground. He looked it over. No damage. His eyes slowly made their way to the nervous female a few yards from him.

He casually strode towards her, as she stepped back. Her foot felt nothing, and she panicked, turning around to see the fifty foot drop straight down. A hand latched onto her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. The stench of sweat and musk surrounded her, and she held her breath, keeping still.

Alex glanced to Djura, nodding, and pulled another Hunter's Mark out of his pocket.

Pain flashed through his brain, and he screamed. He deserved it this time.


	9. Chapter 9

She was sitting in her chair, legs propped up on the table, reading a new book. Something to do with Pthumerian culture. It was, honestly, written poorly. She slammed it shut and rubbed her face with her palms.

She had a couple of blankets folded underneath her butt. It still hurt. Honestly, how does anyone "build a resistance" to electric shock? Your nervous system would have to be dead…which means you would be dead. The whole thing seemed incredulous.

He was bent over the workbench, tinkering with his weapons, as per the usual. She had not brought up what transpired the previous week. Maybe…if she just ignored it…it would eventually go away. Djura didn't seem to think anything was wrong with him, and was "mostly positive" he would not kill her.

He had also shrugged his shoulders when he said it.

Ms. Dolly showed up on her left, and Natalie smiled. "Hello sweetheart."

"My lady, I have come to see if you needed any assistance." Natalie reached out her hand, grabbing the doll's wooden one, patting it.

"No, my dear, I am fine, but thank you for checking on me."

The doll nodded and turned around, heading back outside. Natalie smiled, looking blankly in the distance of where the doll had been.

"Why do you treat her so kindly?"

Her eyes snapped up, meeting his inquisitive ones. This had been the first time he had spoken since they returned from Old Yharnam three days ago.

"I pity her. She has no choice in her actions. Created to serve. Bearing witness to countless deaths, all of those she loved, unconditionally. Sometimes others return her love, but in ways she cannot understand, and will never be able to reciprocate. It seems like a horrible existence."

Natalie's focus drifted from him. A tear ran down her cheek.

"Let no one who loves be called unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow." She looked at him, her eyes watering. "But I see no rainbows here, Alex, as much as I try. I only see only blackness. And it is all consuming. The hunger is never satiated, and my soul dies a little more, each time it feasts upon my weeping heart."

He stared at her, silence falling between the two.

She spread her hand out, signaling one of the books on the table. "They say that the Great Ones are sympathetic in nature. But…haven't you found yourself doubting that? Even their creations…suffer in silence."

She shook her head, glancing around the room, as she wiped the tear from her cheek.

"Well, I dare say I've sat here long enough. I've become sappy and depressing." She gave him a broken smile, and pulled herself up, grimacing a little, and wobbling out of the workshop.

Tears were starting to free fall, and she couldn't stop them. She took off, ducking in the hidden path where she had stumbled upon Gehrman before. The spot was empty, and she slowly walked to it, crashing on her knees, sobbing.

This…this place wasn't Purgatory. It was Hell.

[-]

He found her a few hours later, curled up on herself on the grass, fast asleep. Her cheeks were still wet, and reflected a soft glimmer of the dim light. He knelt next to her, snaking his arms under her knees and back, lifting her towards his chest.

She was incredibly intelligent and kind. Her indelicate behaviors masked the warm-heart that pumped underneath. In his pride, he had done nothing but dismiss the woman since she had arrived, attributing her to being a mere nuisance, if anything.

There was also the physical aspect of her presence, which his normal-self despised, and would inadvertently release these internal frustrations on her. His mind had been poisoned by the beast's blood. It was becoming harder to control the urges. His beast excited whenever he smelled her scent.

His love for the doll had long faded. Natalie had spoken the truth: the doll could not reciprocate feelings of intimacy or lust. It was created to love the Hunters, and care for them like children…a mother's love. His own isolation and trauma had filled in the rest, creating a desire based upon delusions. Killing Maria had only solidified his startling realization.

He looked down at the beautiful, other-worldly woman in his arms. The beast inside stirred, and he gritted his teeth. The lust for blood was still there, but it was not to spill it. He merely wanted a taste. His body and the beast craved something else.

He laid her on the pallet of blankets on the floor, and spread his coat over her. She grabbed at it and sighed. After he brought her back from Old Yharnam, her sarcastic remarks had disappeared, and she mostly said nothing; preferring to sit in silence, reading. He had frightened her. He could smell the fear in her blood whenever he came near, and it ate away at him, a little at a time…the guilt almost too much to bear.

The spider acolyte had given him a powerful Caryll Rune, during their last rendezvous at the Lecture Building. His curiosity spiked, and he found himself walking over to the blood-soaked table. The instrument was in the same position that he had thrown it to the last time. It was a very…painful, process. He ran his fingers over the device, and lifted it. Tilting his head back, he slid the razor-sharp prongs along his left eye. It grasped the eye, pulling it away from the socket, exposing enough space for him to slip the marking tool into his skull.

Intense pain sparked through his brain, and he screamed, falling to his knees. Blood poured out of his eye, as he kept tearing the new symbol into the brain tissue. He sobbed, letting the tool slip out of his hand. It clanked on the floor, dripping in blood.

He felt warm, soft hands reach around him, and grab the instrument, unfastening it, allowing his eye to slip back into the socket, and easing the prongs away. A soft cloth was pressed against his head, and warm arms pulled him into an embrace. He grabbed onto her, and snaked his arms around her torso, as his head laid on her shoulder. She brushed some of his hair back, and kissed the top of his forehead.

She was on her knees, supporting his upper weight, as his legs twisted out away from him. She gently rocked him back and forth, like a child, humming, while she ran her fingers through his hair. His eyes grew heavy, and he found himself losing consciousness, as the new marking took effect. The last thing he smelled was roses.

[-]

He woke up, a bandage secured around his left eye, on the pallet of blankets on the floor. He leaned up, grabbing at his head and groaning. It ached.

He looked to his left, but noticed no blood on the floor, or even on the table, for that matter. He swore he had marked himself with a new rune…

Something shattered outside. He heard a heavy grunt that followed, and the distant voice of Gehrman. "Very good. I think we are ready for something more…advanced."

Alex pushed himself off the floor, removing the bandage over his left eye. His vision had returned, and minimal pain was felt. This was not the first time he had done this, and doubted it would be the last. He made his way out of the workshop, and down the cobblestone stairs, turning to nod at the doll as he passed her.

Arriving at the back-lot gate, he saw Natalie in her training attire, kneeling in front of Gehrman with her cane on her lap. She was leaning over at something the old man was showing her.

"This…this my girl, is _fire paper_."

Her eyes went big. "Oh…my…God…please tell me this is as awesome as it sounds?"

The old man grinned at her. "It will probably be one of the most valuable assets you can use with your weapon. The whip of your cane was designed with this in mind."

She clasped her hands together, giddily. "So, things burn with this?"

"Exceptionally so."

" _Muy bien._ "

She rocked back on her feet, and stood up. He handed her the paper, and she held it up, looking at it with confusion.

"How does it, like, work? Do I need a lighter?" She looked at him. "Do y'all even _have_ lighters here?"

"Yes, we do." Her head snapped to the left, and she saw Alex standing a few feet behind her, his arms at his side. He looked…well, she couldn't quite place it. It was odd, but not unexpected from what he recently just did to himself. The memory of watching him shove some sharp, metal object into his brain, surfaced. She shook it off, and turned towards Gehrman, who was already wheeling away.

"I believe Alexander is more suited to show you this. I cannot move as well as I once could. Enjoy."

She gave the old man an unbelieving look, and spread her arms out. "¿Que?"

She glanced towards Alex, as he held out his hand, motioning at the fire paper. She put the sheet in his hand.

"Your cane, please."

Her eyebrow raised, and she handed it to him. The cane had been a weapon he hadn't used in a while, but sported some skill with. He hit the ground, extending the chain, then hit it again.

It had its uses.

He took the paper, and rubbed it along the shaft of the cane, the parchment disintegrating a small portion at a time, attaching itself like an outer skin. He stuck his hand in his pocket, and took out the lighting stick.

There was a target still standing in the distance, and he walked to it.

"The principle…is to evenly spread it across your weapon, similar to a thin coating. Not all weapons are able to use this, as their varying metallurgies can bolster a resistance to foreign substances."

"I like it when you talk dirty to me."

He raised an eyebrow, and glanced in her direction. She had her hands behind her back, sporting her typical, sarcastic grin.

"Watch."

He struck the stick and brought it to the cane. The weapon caught aflame, and he heard her grasp behind him. He grinned. Smacking the cane into the ground, the whip unwound, and he postured himself forward, swinging his arm, and dropping it sharply, so the whip wrapped around the target in front of them.

It burst into flames, and he jerked his arm back, causing the target to shatter in piece, the flames spewing in all directions. He twisted the handle, and it returned to its primary form. He handed it to her, still alight.

"Now, you try."

She cautiously grabbed it, keeping it a little farther away from her. She swung it a few times, watching the flame flicker in the air current. A devious smile formed on her face, as she locked eyes with him, tilting her head down.

She smacked the cane on the ground. "Let's work on your resistance to fire, _Mr. Pettrene_."

[-]

"This is a college? I'm going to assume private, and _very_ expensive."

They were at the gates to the entrance of Byrgenwerth. He needed to peruse their library; a couple of things were still unclear to him. His exploits into the nightmare of the School of Mensis yielded more questions than answers. In a blood-crazed moment, he had consumed three umbilical cords, unsure as to why. Something told him this might be a key to ending the Hunt, and the Hunter's Dream, once and for all. However, he was still mostly in the dark, struggling to make sense of the events which kept unfolding.

He glanced to his female companion, as she bounced around from foot to foot, rubbing her hands together.

"Why the hell is it so cold here? That's not _normal_."

He was also concerned on what would happen to her. His feelings for her had developed, although he kept it at bay. She was very fickle with emotions, and he had done much to exasperate her anxiety. When this nightmare was over, he planned to take her back with him. He doubted her ability to return to her own world, and the more he thought on her leaving, the more the beast grew irritated.

She grabbed his arm. "Hey, you hear that? It's almost like a…buzzing…but way more annoying."

Her eye twitched, and she put her hand over her right ear. He readied his repeating pistol, narrowing his senses on any fast movements.

To the right.

He fired, then dashed forward. Claws formed, and he impaled the Garden of Eyes on them, ripping the front of their chest out, and throwing them back across the path. Blood gushed from the wound, as it collapsed on itself, making sickening, wet noises.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath…enjoying the bloodshed. He felt a delicate hand wrap around his, and pull slightly. He looked down.

Natalie was staring at the corpse, her eyes wide with fear and horror. She had her cane in her right hand, and leaned forward, poking it in one of its many eyes. She moved the head to the side; a look of fascination crossing her face. Her hand was clenched to his, their fingers intertwined. She was terrified, but she was also intrigued.

Some of the nervous system still remained, and it lurched forward a bit as she accidently pinched a nerve. She yelped and smacked into him, grabbing at his chest, as she kept pushing backwards. He put an arm around her shoulder, laughing.

"It's not funny."

"I assure you, my lady, this is quite humorous."

[-]

"Did you go to college?"

His eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Are you asking if I studied at a university? Why…yes."

"What was your major?"

"Major?"

She waived her hand in the air. "You know, your primary subject of study."

"I had none. It was simply expected of me to go, in preparation for my inheritance."

She had about eight large books in her hands, and she was sweating profusely, lugging them over to the table they had cleared off. She unceremoniously dumped them on top.

She breathed heavy. "Inheritance? Why do you need to prepare to inherit shit? Was it law school?"

He chuckled to himself, as he scanned the titles of what she brought.

"Estate and titles, and navigating the various politics required to manage them. It is expected to be knowledgeable on a wealth of subjects."

She frowned a bit. "Titles? Estate?"

He grinned. "I am the Count of _Pettrene, hence the namesake_. It is a moderately sized estate that maintains a few borders with our neighboring, and occasionally hostile, sister country."

He picked out one of her books, opening the cover.

"It was required that I become educated on the appropriate subjects, as my position demanded. Before my 40th year, my father passed, and I inherited the estate in full."

This book may have what he's looking for. She was quite resourceful.

"Certain things are, and were, essential to my station. I had taken a wife, but she had died in childbirth. Shortly after, I started to experience the more severe symptoms of the sickness I have mentioned to you before."

He looked up. She was sitting across from him, her head on her palm and her mouth wide open. Her eyes beheld a sense of amazement.

"Wow…that is awesome. I mean, not your wife dying part. That's horrible, and I'm really sorry about it."

He smirked. "Do not apologize. It was a marriage of political convenience. The child was not even mine."

Her eyes widened, and she cringed. "Yikes…"

"Nevertheless, it is crucial that I find an end to this nightmare, and a release from the Hunter's Dream. My estate cannot remain unmanaged for long, or I may lose all of it."

She waived her hand, shaking her head and standing up. "Oh, that's bullshit. Just sue the bastards who take it. Unless there's some sort of law or document that says 'if so and so hasn't been seen in X amount of years, their property automatically goes to Y or Z', it wouldn't be a legal claim."

She walked back over to a large bookshelf she hadn't looked at yet. She pulled out a book. The spine had been ripped, and it was falling apart. She frowned, doubting they had any glue here.

"Tell me about yourself, my lady."

She turned to him with the ripped book in her hands, giving him a devious smile, waiving her finger. "Ah, ah, ahh…you cannot use that title on me anymore, _my lord_."

He chuckled. "A lady is always a lady, regardless of title. You have me at a loss, though. I have been unable to pry into your personal belongings to extract more…private, information." His eyes remained on the text in front of him, watching her form from the corner of his eye.

She continued grinning, folding her arms in front of her. She crossed her ankles and leaned back against the shelving. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

"Whatever you would wish to tell me." He flipped a page.

She frowned a bit, scratching the back of her neck. "Well, I have no titles, I come from no royalty. Just…I guess I am…what do you call them, a commoner?"

She shrugged, and turned around.

"A commoner does not possess the knowledge and intelligence that you do."

She went back to glancing through the titles, tilting her head. "My world is much different than yours. Nobility does not, necessarily, exist anymore. If it does, it is merely a figurehead for public events only. I come from a wealthy country. Most of the populous is educated." She turned to him. "It is, _essential_ , to my station as a functioning, productive citizen."

She paused briefly, and continued. "You appear to desire more information to sate your curiosity, though, which is fair. I have a masters in Chemistry." On a bar against the wall, were a collection of different chemicals in jars, and grotesque items sounding them. She pointed towards it.

"I recognize the chemicals on that table against the wall. I can tell you their uses, what they react with, what they can be combined with, what catalysts to use…" She tapped her temple. "Lots of info stuck in the dusty cobwebs up here."

She walked to him and threw the ripped book on the table. "However, I decided to be poor and became a Conservator at a university library." She pointed to the book. "And this book…is driving me _insane_. Do y'all have clear drying glue around here?"

A faint bell could be heard in the distance. Her eyebrows furrowed. It sounded like it was coming…from the ceiling? She looked up, noticing a long ladder that went straight up to an apparent attic.

Alex made eye contact with her, and jumped out of his seat. He grabbed her arm, concern written on his face. "Natalie, stay here. Understand?" He shook her a bit, and she nodded her head, slightly spooked.

He sprinted towards the ladder, pulling himself up with lightning speed. He had been careless. He should have checked this area out prior. He had climbed it before, but a bell-ringer was never found inside.

The bell rang again, as he pulled himself up. He looked up, making out the wispy, tattered robes of the old woman. He sprinted up the incline, snapping his wrist, before lunging forward. He bell managed one more ring, before she died, a gurgled scream echoing off the walls.

He sighed, relieved.

Downstairs, Natalie was sitting at the table, nervously drumming her fingers on the worn wooden surface. She heard an old woman scream, and she anxiously eyed the attic opening, hoping to see familiar leather boots come into view. Her eyes caught something moving in her left field of vision, and she whipped her head towards it.

A man stood, no more than ten feet from her. He was dressed in a bizarre outfit that reminded her of a bird. Raspy, bits of black cloth fluttered about, mostly present on the torso and outer arms. They hung down, swaying as his arms moved. He was wearing an old, Venetian doctor's mask, and a pointed, round cap.

He bowed towards her. A thick, almost French-like accent rolled off his tongue.

"What brings such a stunning creature to Byrgenwerth?"

She smiled, and blushed slightly. What the hell was it with the men here?

She motioned at the books in front of her. "Oh, my friend is researching something, and I tagged along. How about you? What brings you here?"

She smiled, tilting her head as she looked back towards him.

Her reached for his side, pulling out a wickedly curved, and almost entirely black, blade. She stiffened, as her eyes became big.

" _Blood_."

He lunged towards her, as she stumbled getting up from her chair. The glimmer of the blade flashed, as he readied to plunge it in her chest.

A loud crack echoed within the college walls, and the man flew back, slamming against the bookshelf. She took off, sprinting as fast as she could through a large set of double doors that were on the second level. She found herself on a large platform. Sprawling out before her was the dark late, with the ominous, blood looking moon hanging low. She ran to the edge, barely stopping in time before she plunged into the icy depths below.

She swirled around. The stranger hadn't followed her. To the left was an old man in a rocking chair, keeled over, dead. She walked to him, noticing the decorative robes he adorned, and the almost, pontiff style cap. He had bizarre, glowing fungi sprouting out of his back. The blood from where his chest had been impaled had long since dried. The stench of death permeated around him. She felt…pity.

A sharp clang of metal was heard inside, she hurried to the doors, peeking in. Alex was engaged in combat with the man that tried to kill her. The stranger moved almost elegantly, dodging Alex's attack with ease. Alex lifted his hand up to fire, and the stranger knocked his gun out of his grasp, swiping backwards with the deadly sword across his chest. Alex rolled to the side, blood trickling out, as he maintained focus on his opponent.

Shit. This guy was going to kill him. She eyeballed where she had left her gun on the table. Maybe she could…just…slip by…

Alex sprinted forward, swirling his cleaver at the invader's feet. They easily dodged out of the way, and took off in a sprint. He followed, having to change directions, as they ran past the ladder, making a sharp turn. He jerked his wrist, and made a stabbing motion in the direction the stranger was headed, trying to catch them within their momentum. They avoided the maneuver, to his dismay.

The invader pulled on the Blade of Mercy, splitting the sword into two, sharp daggers. He spun forward, causing Alex lose his balance, and stumble to the side. He pushed onwards, swinging both arms across, as he stabbed the daggers in the side of his chest, twisting, and pulling out. Alex fell to his knees…blood starting to pool around him. He had failed…

The stranger straightened, giving him a regal bow. "I dare say I enjoyed this fight, Hunter. However, it is time for me to reap the rewards of your beautiful prey."

He heard a click.

"Reap this."

[-]

This is the third time she had shot someone in the head. Third time's a charm, right?

The despicable bird man fell over, and she kicked the corpse to the side in disgust. She looked over, seeing red saturate the wooden floor. Alex was on his knees, bent forward, hands in the pool of his own blood, as he desperately tried to breathe.

She ran to him, crashing her knees in his blood, as she lifted his torso up. He fell to the side, and she found herself, once again, cradling him on her lap. His eyes were unfocused, and his breathing raspy.

She…knew, now, that he would revive. However, it was heart-wrenching to watch. She took off his hat and face covering, running her hand down his cheek. Pained eyes looked up to her, as a little blood trickled out of his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. It'll be okay. You will be fine. I promise I won't talk to strangers anymore."

He choked a laugh, more blood spilling up from his lungs. His hand grabbed her shoulder, the pain becoming unbearable to tolerate. A raspy, moan tore from his throat, as his eyes rolled back.

Tears started to fall. She couldn't help it. This was hell. In her arms was the worst thing she had ever experienced in her life. Yet, here it was, happening a second time. She openly sobbed.

He reached a quivering hand towards her face, and ran a bloodied finger down a tear trail. She grabbed his hand, and cried harder. His breath was becoming more shallow, and she heard nothing but wetness, as the blood poured out in greater amounts.

His eyes stared into hers, quickly losing focus, and she leaned down, giving him a chaste kiss, covering her lips and chin in blood.

"I'll be here…"

[-]

She was stacking books on the table, organizing them into the bag that she found stuffed in one of the cupboards on the wall. She was done with the "college". They would take the books and get the hell out of here.

Some tears fell. His corpse had finally disappeared, but his blood remained, soaked in her clothes. Some of it was dried on her face. She used the back of her hand to wipe the tears away, smearing it in the process.

She couldn't keep doing this. It hurt too much. A loud moan echoed. Natalie wasn't usually a wuss about things like death, but Alex was really her only "friend". He was all she had. It was a frightening thought to think that he might not always be around.

She slammed some more books on the table, and brought her palms to her face as she cried. She used the surface to support herself, shaking as her body convulsed. The sounds of her sobbing filled the giant, empty college. She did not hear the steps running up the stairwell.

She groaned, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her breathing was erratic. She was having a mental breakdown. It's not normal to have people die in your arms so much, especially as blood spewed out of their mouths. Even medical professionals have a hard time coping.

She felt arms latch around her, and pull her towards a leather chest. The smell of him surrounded her, as she wrapped her arms around his torso and cried hard, almost screaming. His hand found the back of her head, as his other ran circles on her back. She hyperventilated, desperately trying to suck air in.

"Natalie…calm down."

She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. Large breaths in…large breaths out. Slowly. An occasional hiccup would happen, but she found herself, finally, calming down.

He titled his head down, and put a gloved finger under her chin, lifting her head up to face his. Her eyes were bloodshot, and snot poured out of her nose. She looked absolutely broken, and it tore at his heart.

He smiled at her. "Are you ready to go home, my lady?"

She shook her head.


	10. Chapter 10

"Yar-har-har" is from Epicnamebro, during a run thru he did of this game. It cracked me up so much, I decided to reuse it. Check out his walkthroughs for Bloodborne if you're having any problems. They're very good.

[-][-][-][-][-]

"Aren't you a Vileblood?"

They were back at the Workshop. She was perched on top of the books in next to the workbench, her head on the palm of her bent arm, leaning on the edge, watching him fiddle with his cleaver.

"That…is a difficult question to answer."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Count Mysterious."

"I should have never told you that."

"Too late, Count of Monte Crisco. You've opened the flood gates, now suffer the consequences."

He sighed, irritated. Still, he was glad things were back to normal with her. Her melancholy had the tendency to eat at him, and she had remained depressed for a good bit after their return from the college. He had no idea that his death had such an effect on her. It was rather a pleasant feeling, knowing that another cared for you.

"To answer your question, technically, yes. I did consume the Queen's blood."

A devious smile formed on her lips, and she tilted her head to the side, seductively. "Well, well… _do tell_. This sounds quite spicy."

He looked up at her, a serious expression on his face. "Somehow, I doubt that it would be as 'spicy' as you're eluding to." He looked back down at his weapon. He had found a new blood gem, with better properties. Removing them was slightly tedious, though. "She offered some of her blood in a glass, and I drank it."

Natalie gagged. "I called it. Vampire."

"What is a vampire?"

She jumped off the pile of books, and picked up the Blade of Mercy he had out. His loss to the invader left a bitter sting. His primary weapon was not as quick and agile, and he found himself quickly losing. It was worth the effort to perfect his skill with the Blade. She waved it around, looking at it in different angles.

"Well…it's really, a legend. A mythological being. Humans that drink blood to survive, and are immortal."

He stopped, and turned to her. "Mythological?"

She was yanking on the handle. "Oh yeah, none of that shit is real. Well…" she looked around. "I guess here, it is. There are different versions of what vampires are, how they act, feed, and how you become one. Various rules, like: you can't hang out in daylight, the ole 'stake through the heart' mumbo-jumbo…garlic."

She was flinging it harshly, in frustration.

"Then there's all the hidden, sexual connotations with it. A vampire represents this sort of, forbidden, lust. Some stories get pretty racy and graphic."

He stood up, walking to her.

"Your presumption has been that I am a vampire, then?"

"Yep." She gave the blade another shake. "Look, how the hell does it do that awesome "split into two" thing? I saw that shithead do it."

She looked up and startled, moving backwards slightly, as he followed.

"Which part gives away my nature, my lady? The blood drinking…" His face came within an inch of hers. "Or lust?"

She stared at him…her eyes wide open, glancing back and forth. Her pulse sped up, and she laughed nervously. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent.

Opening them, he snatched the Blade of Mercy from her hand. "This is an ancient, trick weapon. Its origins dictate an even older lineage. The metals used are found in specific meteorites. It is extremely difficult to modify."

He held the blade, and placed his thumb over a small plate in the handle, flicking his wrist, as it split in two. He pulled the daggers apart with expert precision, twirling one in his palm.

"The Hunter that uses this blade, must be fast and deadly accurate. It allows no mistakes, but rewards skill unlike any other. I am, unfortunately, not as agile as this weapon demands. It will take time before I can wield it proficiently."

He connected the ends, twisting his wrist in one fluid motion, as the daggers folded in upon themselves, reshaping into the blade. He handed it back to her, an intense look in his eyes, as he nodded for her to take it. She cautiously put her hand around the hilt.

He returned to his previous task, prodding at the chamber which held a blood gem.

"Oww", he heard metal hit the ground. "I…need to stop playing with that."

The scent assaulted his nostrils, almost immediately. The beast was agitated. He heard her walk up next to him, and saw her form reposition itself back on the stack of books. Her thumb was in her mouth, as she sucked.

He licked his lips.

"Is that a blood gem?"

His eyes never deviated from her mouth. "Yes."

"Oh! Remember when I told you about making bets with stones? Here…"

She jumped off and headed towards her section of the shop. He heard the clinking of items. She walked back, waiving her thumb in the air, blowing on it, making a face and returning it to her mouth. She came up next to him and threw five blood gems on the table.

"Enjoy. One's a triangle. I thought that was pretty neat."

He picked one up, examining the cut. They were…

"Where did you get these?"

She waived her hand dismissively. "Around the shop here. I got bored and decided to dig holes one day."

He laughed.

[-]

"This place reeks of Dracula. More so than you, and that's saying a lot, _Count_. And what's with all the half-naked statues? Should we not blink?"

He looked at her, confused.

"Weeping angels?" Her eyes looked at him, with an expected recognition.

He raised an eyebrow.

A figure moved in the distance, and he saw a bloodlicker make its way towards them. He snapped his wrist, and the saw cleaver expanded. He turned around to see Natalie running in a full sprint in the other direction.

He sighed, and dodged forward, impaling the bloated licker on his cleaver. Twisting sideways, he carved a pathway through its swollen abdomen, as blood poured out, coating his entire body. The beast screamed, curling in on itself.

He breathed in, aroused by the smell of blood.

He snapped his weapon back into its folded position, and headed in the direction of his skittish female companion. Heading through the main gate, he saw her standing at the edge of the broken bridge. To her left was the dilapidated carriage that had carried him there, with the long dead horse corpses, frozen.

He confidently walked towards her, down the many steps, his footsteps coated in blood. The bloodlicker had been near full; having feasted on countless corpses. He licked his lips; it had been too long since he had come to Cainhurst.

He stopped behind Natalie a few feet away, patiently waiting.

"This…this isn't good. How did you even _get here_? We need to hide, though, and fast. I can't keep my eyes open much longer, they burn." She turned around, and stepped back in shock.

"Whoa! What the hell happened to you?"

He merely grinned under the cloth that covered his face.

She gave him a disgusting look. "God, you really have a problem. Here, give me your glasses." She swiped them off his face, and pulled out one of her handkerchiefs, wiping the blood off.

"This is so gross. I'm going to end up with hepatitis C, I swear." She held them up to the sky again. "Well, at least it's not weeping angels. We would have been completely fucked."

She handed him back his glasses, sighing. He grabbed her hand, covering it in blood. She gagged, flicking it to the side, and giving him a disgusted look.

"You are one sick fuck…" She walked past him, vigorously wiping her hand off, noticeably irritated. He laughed.

"What's wrong, _little girl_ …scared of blood."

She froze. It appeared that "the beast" had come out to play, again. She wasn't sure how to control the "episodes", or what to do to get him to snap out of it. She was concerned this would happen, and memories of when he had her up against the tree came to the forefront of her mind. They were at the "Vilebloods" place of residence, after all.

She looked up the steps. The lamppost was a long distance away. If she ran, it would set him off. She had to keep her pulse calm. She took a deep breath and casually proceeded forward. "Not scared. More like…concerned. There are many diseases you can contract by touching other people's blood." She focused on talking scientifically, it helped keep her nerves under control.

She didn't hear him following behind her, and she kept her pace. She was whistling the Andy Griffith tune, thinking back to when she would sit on the living room floor, in her pajamas, while her and her brother watched reruns. It brought a smile to her lips.

She succeeded making it to the top where the large doors were cracked opened. Peeking through the doors, she saw the warm glow of the lamppost. She sighed, relieved. She turned around. He was…gone.

Her pulse sped up. Shit. "Alex?"

She felt a hot breath whisper in her ear. "Even covered in blood, I still crave yours…your smell, it is tantalizing."

He stepped in front of her, leaning in. Her eyes carefully watched him, noting the red glaze that burned behind the brown.

"I smell your fear. Your heart pumps faster. You sweet blood flows through you, even more excited." He ripped his hat off in one move, throwing his glasses and the face covering to the ground. Dried blood was caked around his eyes, and small rivers of it had poured down his cheeks. His slicked back hair had become wild and some of it draped across his left eye.

He leaned in, sniffing her neck, and running a tongue across the vein that throbbed subtly. She sucked in a breath and instinctively stepped backwards. He kept pace, looming over her until her back felt the cold stone wall of the castle.

 _"_ _Where are you going to run to now?"_

He reached under her thighs and lifted her up harshly. She grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to keep from toppling over. The scent of leather and musk entered her nostrils, and she placed her hand on his head, closing her eyes. She accepted her fate.

He returned his mouth back to her neck, running his tongue over the even more rapid throbbing of the vein. His canines scrapped the delicate skin, as he thrusted his hips up. She gasped and let loose a quiet moan. A new scent danced across his senses, and he closed his eyes, breathing it in deep. She was aroused. The smell was even more alluring than her blood, and he craved it.

A claw formed, and he slid the hand back, trying to dig into more of her flesh. A painful shriek tore through her throat. His eyes opened wide, as the red haze instantly disappeared and he dropped her on the ground, hearing a loud thud, followed by a groan. She scrambled to her feet, grabbing at the portion of her that had the burn from the Tonitrus.

"Jesus, that hurt…" She awkwardly stumbled past him, not even making eye contact. Her face was flushed, and blood was smeared all over the front of her outfit. He ran his hand over his face, biting his fist in frustration. He had no control over it. It was simply a matter of time…

But where could he take her? Who would look after her? She would think that she had been abandoned. Guilt flooded his emotions, and he sagged his head, picking up his hat and glasses, and rearranging them on his face. He looked up at her. She was taking handfuls of snow and trying to wipe off the blood, flinging it off on the wall.

"So gross…"

He made his way to her, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. He pointed to the side of the outer walls of the castle. "There is an elevator that leads to a short cut."

She started to head in that direction, deep in thought. She wasn't sure what to do, and her thinking was muddled. His "beast personality" functioned on a more primeval level: it wanted to kill, or fuck, anything that moved. What's shocking is that she made the split decision to go along with it. She internally chided herself. It was more important than ever that she keep her wits about her.

They walked onto the elevator, and he stepped on a raised tile with his boot. She felt the jerk of the pulley system, as air suddenly rushed down on her. Eventually, they arrived to the top, and she stepped off into an exquisite room, full of ornate bookshelves, and dining tables. The ceiling was at least thirty feet above her head. Massive engravings, of gold and silver, decorated everything.

"Wow." She stood staring, her mouth wide open.

Alex grabbed her hand, pulling her towards him, and off to the side, avoiding the wandering glare of a Silver Lady that roamed in the room ahead. He touched her shoulder, leaning in to make eye contact. His saddened brown eyes connected with hers.

She looked back at him, confused. "Did I do something wrong?"

He sighed, as he kept his grip on her shoulder. "Natalie…you _never_ do anything wrong." He took in a deep breath, glancing around, before returning his eyes to hers. "I need you to be careful. Stay close to me, at all times. This place is incredibly dangerous."

He was back to normal. She shot him a smirk. "Ah, another Yar-har-har deal. It's ok, if we come across any Hunters, I'll make sure to take care of them for you."

He gave her an incredulous look.

"Come on."

She was still quietly chuckling when he yanked her behind him.

[-]

Alex wasn't the only one with mental problems.

The blonde, that had flirted with her last month, was standing in front of them, covered in blood and chunks of, what was, a person. He donned some sort of a gold, pyramid helmet. Over his arm was a large wheel, dripping in bits of flesh and organs. He kept raving about how his master had been redeemed, and something about grinding a siren into a pink pulp. She looked past him on one of the throne chairs. It looked like a body had exploded. She dry heaved, and put the back of her hand up to her mouth.

Pyramid Head + Executioner + Dead bodies = Silent Hill. She was in Silent Hill. Instead of sirens, you got bells.

Alex went to step towards him, and she snatched his arm, shaking her head feverishly. She jerked her head backwards a few times, indicating that they should leave. He shook his head 'no', and padded her hand. She reluctantly let go of his arm.

Alfred saw him approach.

"Oh, you, is it? Look at this! Thanks to you, I've done it! Well? Isn't it wonderful?"

He looked at the remains of Annalise, scattered across her throne.

"Now Master can be canonized as a true martyr! Ha ha ha! I've done it, I have!" He gave a roaring sound, intermixed within laughter.

Natalie was completely freaked out. This guy was _insane_ …like, more so than usual for this place. Alex motioned for her to come towards him. She shook her head feverishly. _No way._

Alfred noticed the motion, and waived at her.

"My dear lady, welcome! Welcome to the glorious victory of the Executioners!"

She cringed and clapped a little, flashing a pained smile. "Yay…"

He went back to laughing like a maniac, and Alex motioned her towards him again. She cautiously kept to the side, squeezing in between some of the billion statues that littered the room, eventually coming up behind Alex, to his right. She turned to look at the throne.

She squinted her eyes. The flesh…it was… _moving_? She grabbed Alex's arm, and pointed at it. He leaned in, trying to follow what she was pointing at. His eyes finally caught sight of the pink flesh, as it slowly expanded.

She _was_ immortal. But…how to return her as before? While he did not particularly care for Annalise, her covenant offered some occasional benefits. He walked over to the throne, examining the moving flesh.

"Natalie, hand me one of your handkerchiefs."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "No…fucking…way."

He stuck his hand out and wiggled his fingers. She rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands in her pockets and pulling out, no less than, five large pieces of cloth. He looked down at the bundle she placed in his hand, and raised an eyebrow.

"It'll be like greasy take-out. Make sure you wrap it a few times, so it doesn't leak everywhere."

[-]

She stared at the moving flesh in the glass jar.

"Do we like…need to talk to it?"

She was leaning on the table, on her elbows, slowly turning the jar around. It was fascinating and disgusting, all at the same time. Alex was bent over the workbench, as usual. She glanced over at him.

"You're going to develop back problems, you know."

She heard a chuckle. Rolling her eyes, she went back to staring at the jar. Footsteps made their way near her, and a hand touch the back of her chair. He leaned in over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear. The smell of a muted spice swayed across her senses.

She glanced up. He was staring intently on the jar, his eyes somewhat squinted. Did he always smell like that? No, because this smelled _good_.

"I…don't think she is conscious. Merely, alive, in the most basic sense." He looked down at Natalie, and grinned. "Trust me, you would not enjoy the company of this woman."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "How do you know that?"

He nicked her chin. "Because, I know you." He stood up straight, and headed back to the workbench.

"How are you going to resurrect her?"

Some metal clinked on the table, and she stood up, walking towards him, perching herself up on the stack of books next to the bench. She put her elbow on the table, and her head on her palm, looking at the weapon he was fiddling with. It was a heavily decorated sword.

"There is something I had stumbled across before, when I first saw Ebrietes."

"Who?"

He glanced up. "Another Kin of the Great Ones. Left behind, long ago."

"Is he still around?"

" _She_ …is dead."

Natalie frowned. She reached out, running her fingers along the beautiful inlays on the hilt of the sword.

"So where to next?"

He glanced up at her face again. Her eyes remained on the Reiterpallasch.

"You seem content to become a permanent travel companion, I have noticed."

She grinned, following an engraving up the hilt. This thing was expensive, no doubt. "It's better than sitting here on my ass, staring at the wall."

He chuckled. "Well put, my lady." He noticed the trick function had been damaged. It would require substantial repair. He picked up a rag, swiping it between his hands.

"However, I cannot take you where I am headed to. Not yet, at least. I could not assure your safety."

She frowned. He reached out, and put his thumb and finger under her chin, rubbing the smooth skin.

"This is a place beyond any horrors I have seen. You have a soft-heart."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Soft-heart? Because I went into shock after watching you die for the _second_ time? Would it be better if a cracked a beer open and propped my feet up on your corpse?"

He nicked her chin, and tapped her mouth. "This…needs a restraint."

She laughed.

"I do have a favor to ask of you, if I may?"

She rolled her eyes, and stuck her arm out. "Drain away."

[-]

"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm... Do you hear our prayers?"

The Reiterpallasch was gripped in his hand, as the Host of the Nightmare made his grandiose introduction.

Alex had killed the Orphan of Kos, only after injecting himself with two vials of Natalie's blood. He regenerated his wounds at the same rate that he was receiving them, making him nigh indestructible. It had been a grueling fight, and one he took no pleasure in. Watching the wretched thing crawl itself out of its dead mother was beyond dreadful. The cry the Orphan gave caused him to die a little on the inside.

Yet, the nightmare beckoned an ending, as do all. Sometimes, only upon death, can one truly awaken.

"She does not, Micolash."

The Host turned towards him, his insane expression amplified by the Mensis Cage. His eyes wide with temporary panic, and his mouth contorted into a sneer.

"No, we shall not abandon the dream."

"All dreams end…"

His eyes were delirious, as his mouth hung partially open in a permanent mocking grin.

"No one can catch us! No one can stop us now!"

The madman took off, heading down one of the hallways. Alex's prey drive kicked in, and the red haze of his vision narrowed in on Micolash. He took a sharp right, heading off in a different direction at an intersection. Alex growled in frustration.

He jerked his arm down, transforming the Reiterpallasch into a firearm. He took a shot and hit the maniac. Micolash stumbled for a bit, and took another sharp left. A small trail of blood formed, and Alex quickly followed in pursuit.

He finally chased him into a larger room, that had mirrors. A gate fell behind him, and Micolash used an Augur of Ebrietas, sending a massive wave of large tentacle towards him. They caught him off guard, and he was sent backwards, slamming up against the wall. A mirror in the room rippled, and he saw Micolash step through, disappeared. Alex jumped up to ran off of him, and crashed into the mirror. Shards of glass cut his face, rendering an eye useless.

His left eye saw blood dripping on the floor. Above him on a balcony, he saw Micolash.

"Ah hah hah ha! Ooh! Majestic! A hunter is a hunter, even in a dream. But, alas, not too fast! The nightmare swirls and churns unending!"

He turned to walk off, as the room slowly filled with ethereal walkers. Alex hung his head low, patiently waiting for his eventual death by being torn apart. He would need time to figure out a strategy.

[-]

Alex had come back after being gone for a few weeks. She marked the days on her crude calendar on the wall. She had been displaced a few days, but it was nearing Christmas time back "home", so she had decorated the inside of the workshop in loops of different colored ribbon, and tied a few blood gems up, hanging them on a bush outside.

He had been in one of his "moods". The most recent expedition of his did not pan out like he thought. He had a different weapon on his table, meticulously making modifications of an obsessive nature. She had asked him a few times about going to Clinic, always receiving a "soon".

"Do you think we can go to Yharnam today?"

He threw his rag down. "Are you bloody daft? I said no!"

He turned away from her, while she stood there with an embarrassing blush spreading across her cheeks. She looked over at her corner of the shop. Gehrman had said she was strong enough to easily survive Central Yharnam at this point, maybe she needed to make a little trip…

She rummaged through her make shift dresser, and dug out the dead woman's outfit. She quietly unhooked her cane from the place on the wall, then slowly stepped out of the building, her arms full. She had given him another vial of her blood earlier, and he was preoccupied with it, noticing nothing.

Slinging her items on the rock wall by Ms. Dolly, she made a "shh" gesture, and proceeded to get changed.

Stretching her arms out, and moving her fingers in the leather gloves, she walked up to the first gravestone off the bottom steps. "Yharnam." Underneath were some additional locations chiseled in. _Central Yharnam_. This was it.

Stretching her arm out, she put her fingers on Central Yharnam. A low mist appeared, and the tiny hands of the zombies appeared. A few reached for her, excitedly.

"Central Yharnam, please." They bobbed their little heads up and down, and more tiny hands grabbed her outfit.

"Natalie! Wait!" Alex was sprinting out of the building. His hand reached for her, and swiped through air. She was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

She stood up, glancing around her. It was the location he had taken her the first time. She walked over to the edge of the upper platform, noticing the clinic in the distance. Thankfully she had asked him about it before, and he had unknowingly pointed towards it.

Just…down this ridiculously long ladder.

She assumed the position, edging her left leg over, then slowly down. She made it two steps, when she saw the little zombies popping out of the lantern. One waved.

Oh shit. He was coming. She thought fast, moving a few more spots down, and then locking her leg around the side rail, maneuvering herself behind the ladder. She climbed back up a few more steps, where she was directly hidden underneath the stone outcrop up top.

She heard the clicks of his boots directly over her head. She clinched her eyes, hoping he wouldn't decide to use the ladder. To her, usually absent, luck, she heard his steps run off in an opposite direction.

 _Ha._

Grinning, she swung her leg awkwardly around, and resumed descending the ladder at her own, slow pace. Finally, she reached the bottom, dusting herself off. She was already sweating in the leather furnace. Pulling the cane out of her self-made holster, she headed off in the direction of the clinic.

The street was littered with trash, intermixed with chained up coffins and bizarre statues of weeping women. Or, at least she presumed it was a woman. It also had a large hump. It made her stomach churn, the longer she stared. Who would make such a thing? Why would you put it on a public street? Things took on an entirely new perspective, when a person found themselves alone. There's no one else to talk to. No one to keep a sanity check with, as you're presented with horrors only the most sick and twisted mind can imagine.

Steps echoed in the distance, and she quickly made her way around the street bend, towards the gated courtyard. It was important she found the place where she had emerged in this horror. It had been on her mind since she arrived. If only she could find the mirror…

Plus, she really didn't want to deal with…whatever was going on between them. She needed a break. He had hurt her enough, and she had allowed it. That was what she was mostly upset with; her own stupidity.

Stepping into the small courtyard, she quickly noticed that it was more of a graveyard. She took the doorway to the right, and glided down the stairs. Medical tables and shelves full of medical instruments lined the room. This had to be the clinic.

She headed deeper in towards the back of the room, through another entrance. A couple of the beds and tables had been strewn apart, like a massive fight had broken out. There were wooden stairs leaning upwards in the distance. She proceeded forward, noting anything of interest in sight. She passed a dark corner near the entrance to the stairwell. She swore she saw something move.

Must have been her imagination.

The doorframe appeared to have sustained some substantial damage. It looked like it had been scratch, or even chewed on. She ran her finger along the splintered frame. It looked like…blood.

A low, ominous growl resounded from behind her. She turned, finding herself being watched by two red eyes, glaring back from the dark corner. Gradually, a hairy, large arm emerged from the shadows, followed by a snarling, massive head, full of razor sharp teeth.

The hellish beast eventually displayed itself in its full form, choosing a half circle formation to observe her. She gripped her cane, with sweaty palms. Her pulse increased, and the beast groaned in response, sensing her blood. Spit dripped from its partially opened mouth.

Alex would awaken from every death back in the Hunter's Dream; but she was not a true Hunter, and she did not have the alien blood that he did. If she died here, it might truly be her last breath, regardless of what dream, nightmare, or reality she was currently in.

She sprinted through the doorway, and the massive beast charged forward, crashing into the frame. She used the chance to strike it in the head with her weapon, causing blood to splatter across her face.

 _Fucking…gross._

It lunged, swiping, and she kicked it in its face crawling backwards in the steps, reaching the top. She jiggled the door handle.

Shit, locked. She took her cane handle and busted the glass, reaching around to feel for the deadbolt. Her arm sliced open on a jagged shard, as she had it bent over the opening, desperately trying to find the lock.

The growl echoed up the stairwell, she hit the cane on the ground, exposing the long chain. She raised her arms, just as the old man had instructed, lunging forward, causing the chain to embed itself around the beast's neck. She jerked her torso back, and the chain twisted, fully cutting in and ripping its neck to shreds. Blood poured out, and it slowly crumpled in the ground, blocking the doorway as it took its last breath.

Natalie sat down, breathing rapidly. She put her head in her hands, trying to calm herself the best she could. That was beyond terrifying. Her face still dripped with the beast's blood. It made her stomach churn, as her nerves were on high drive. Fighting things alone was an entirely different story.

She let out a heart wrenching laugh, that ended in a sob. Her arm kept bleeding, and she put her hand around it, trying to apply pressure. A click sounded behind her, and the door swung open.

"Natalie!"

Strong arms wrapped around her.

(-)

He had found her on top of the stairwell, leading into the clinic. He had heard the noises of a fight with one of the beasts in the distance, and ran as fast as he could through the back way of the clinic, hoping to save some precious time.

She was sitting there, her head leaning over her bloodied arm, the beast dead below.

He bent down, wrapping his arms around her, trying to lift her to her feet.

She pushed him off her, her eyes full of anger. Her face was covered in blood.

The smell flooded his senses again. His inner beast stirred.

"Get off me."

He touched her arm, and she smacked his hand away. She was ready for a fight. Her eyes were wild and fierce. The blood moving through her veins heightened his senses. He wanted to run his teeth along that delicate vein in her neck…

"I'd much rather you leave.

She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, wrapping it around her wound. It would need stitches.

"Natalie, I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't you have more important matters to attend to?"

He hung his head low. In his frustrations of dealing with Micolash, he had taken his anger out on her. The Reiterpallasch had not worked out as he intended, and he had to strip it of all the modifications he could. His saw cleaver no longer held advantageous on the new beasts he came across.

"Yes…you."

She scoffed, holding the blood-soaked cloth to her arm. He crouched down, gently placing his hands her arm.

"Please, let me at least look at the injury."

Her face remained expressionless, and she turned her head in the other direction. She removed her hand, taking the cloth with her. He took his gloves off, and prodded near the wound. He heard her take in a sharp breath. It hurt, but she was too proud to admit it.

It was killing him to remain under control. Her sweet nectar flowed out, dripping on the floor. He found his tongue instinctively dart out, licking his bottom lip.

A small chime was heard. He saw the band around her wrist light up. It had numbers and pulsating symbols on its face. His hand made its way to her wrist, and he lifted it up. He had forgotten…

"It marks the hour. That's what the beep is. I don't know why I bother. Time has no meaning in hell."

He looked at her. His brown eyes sad, with that broken, lost poppy dog look again. She rolled her eyes, and pinched her nose bridge with her other hand.

"Your world…what is it like?"

She kept her eyes closed. "Well, for starters, it's a hell of a lot more sanitary."

She went to stand on her feet, allowing Alex to help her up. He seemed generally beat up enough over snapping at her. It was okay, she'd allow it. _This once_.

She turned towards the unlocked clinic door, and looked up at the sign posted on the side. "Well, at least I'm at some sort of medical facility, they should have some form of disinfectant," she glanced at the saturated handkerchief, "and bandages." She flung it on the ground, stepping over the blood-soaked cloth.

He let loose a low growl, following behind her, and swiping it off the floor.

[-]

Natalie found a couple more bits of clean cloth, as well as some antiseptic, during their exploration of the clinic. Alex was being very quiet. She wasn't sure if he was brooding, having another "episode", or generally reflecting on the asshole that he was.

She had her arm stretched out in front of him, as he leaned over her cut. He had taken his hat and face covering off, and his dark hair fell forward. She saw the needle rise, with the black, coarse thread, and turned the other way.

She hissed.

"Are you sure you cleaned that enough?" It appeared you only received the "scourge" through actual transfusions, but she preferred not to increase her odds.

"Yes, my lady, your wound is clean."

She felt another pull with the thread. Her stomach churned a bit. She was getting pale, and breathing rapidly.

He sensed it.

He stood up, and cleared some items off the table. He took his overcoat off, and folded it a few times, laying it towards the end.

"Come. Lay down."

She looked at him peaked. He helped her stand up and scoot to the middle of the table. He put his hand under her head, until it made contact with his overcoat. He leaned over, resuming the stitching.

"I'm…sorry. I…never have done well with this stuff."

He reached over, and put a warm hand on the side of her face, his thumb rubbing her cheek.

"Don't apologize, my lady."

She gave him a small smile, and reached up, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. She tilted her head away from him, still feeling a little woozy.

"It's hard to stay mad at you."

He looked back down at the task in front of him. "And why might that be?"

"A plethora of reasons. One is that you're so goddamn charming."

He chuckled. "What else is your world like, besides sanitary?"

She sighed, as she thought back to her life before. "Metallic cities that reach to the sky. Great machines which perform a variety of functions. Most things are automated. We physically do very little, and pursue more academic endeavors. Wars…" She felt a pinch, and winced. "War…is beyond imagining. Millions parish in an instant. But such is the nature of man."

She stared at the ceiling. "I remember sitting on an outcrop at Big Bend National Park, staring into the night sky, wondering…dreaming, about what was out there."

She felt some sporadic tugging on her arm, followed by a little pain.

"All done."

She tilted her head back over, and raised her arm up. He had done an amazingly good job.

"I think you missed your calling."

He grabbed her hand, helping her sit up. She swung her legs over the table, looking down, while he put his overcoat back on. He waited for her patiently, while she took her time gathering her things again. Her arm ached, but at least it stopped bleeding. They stepped out into the dark hallway.

"There was a woman here, when I first came to this cursed place. Her name was Iosefka. She ran this clinic."

"What happened to her?"

"The woman who brought you here…she turned her into something…something no longer human." He took hold of her hand, directing them back into the entrance lobby of the clinic. He lit the small lantern that hung off his belt, and walked over to the pitch-black corner. Natalie followed, looking down on the floor.

Her jaw dropped. "Jesus Christ…"

"I found her like this. Standing by the door, where she would always wait for me to return. I never saw her face…"

Natalie grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers, and squeezed.

"I killed her."

She frowned. There were no words of wisdom or assurance to offer. She simply did not know how to respond. She stood there, holding his hand in silence, letting him mull over his thoughts.

He turned to her, grabbing her shoulder, so they were facing. "This is what I am, Natalie. A killer. I hunt. I murder. I tear them to shreds. It doesn't matter who or what. My soul revels in the bloodshed. My heart beats in a joyous rhythm to their screams."

"You didn't kill me."

His hand moved from her shoulder, placing it on the side of her face. "Of course not."

"Why"

Her blue eyes were looking into his, full of hope. He tilted his head lower; her scent permeating his senses. Not her blood…just, _her_.

"A change of heart."

He let go of her hand, and walked out, back into the dimly lit hallway. She turned to the corpse on the floor, almost hidden in the dark shadows. She was lucky. This could have been her. She could have been turned into this… _thing_. This woman…she deserved better that this. A tear fell down, as she wiped it away, following after him.

They begin exploring the clinic in more detail. Alex was unsure where the mirror was; only that he had not seen it where he had found her. They went room by room, taking note of any items of interest, and stuffing a few in their pockets, as they moved along.

Eventually, in a room directly below where he had found her, there was a mirror in the corner. It had the same design as the one that was in her apartment…almost identical.

Except this one was shattered.

She took off her gloves, squatting in front of the broken mirror. She picked up a shard, twisted it back and forth as her fingers gripped the shining surface. She saw a sliver of her reflection, and her eyes swelled, as a tear fell. There was no way she could get back. This could never be glued back together, it was shattered beyond recognition.

She tossed the shard back on the ground. "Perfect." She wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"Well. I'm out of ideas now. Unless you know someone that makes magical, trans-dimensional mirror replacements, I would believe I am shit out of luck."

"I have seen this mirror before."

She glanced up at her companion. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had not put his hat or face mask back on, and she could see his serious expression. His brown eyes were intently focused on the frame.

"Where?"

"In the Nightmare. Where the Host lingers. There are many mirrors, each similar to this."

She ran her hand along the elegant frame.

His mind reeled. This made sense. The imposter was a member of the Healing Church. They were always at odds with the School of Mensis, each sending their own spies to infiltrate the deepest bowels of the organizations. Somehow, this woman had taken possession of a mirror, managing to twist the teleportation towards something entirely new.

An entirely different dimension. The question was, how?

She stood up, dusting her hands off. "Then my goal is simple: I go to the Nightmare."

He stepped forward. "Absolutely not."

"And keep me a prisoner here? You cannot deny me this, Alex."

"I can, and I will. You are a fool to think you can survive. At least in the Dream, you won't come to harm."

Her demeanor changed, and a scowl formed on her lips.

"I see, I am a fool now? Perhaps… Although, I daresay that is not the only reason for your motivations to keep me near. As you have told me before, my death balanced on a thin line, graciously granted an extension by your benign will." She straightened her stance, narrowing her eyes on him. "No…I serve a much higher purpose. _For where would you be without my precious blood_ …"

She grabbed the mirror frame, slicing her palm wide open on a shard. Blood immediately trickled out, as she made slow and steady steps towards him. Her face displayed no emotion or pain to the wound on her hand, as their eyes remained locked. She held her arm up, letting the blood twist a path across, before dripping on the floor.

"What did the acolyte call it? A gift of the Godheads? A divine blessing? How difficult it must be…to keep the beast at bay… A flesh and blood woman, alive with the nectar of the Gods, clinging to your every whim…

He growled, the red haze entering his vision. She was mocking him.

He snatched her wounded hand and pulled it up to his face; assessing the extent of the cut. The smell of her blood was unbearable. His breath had increased, and his canines elongated. Her pulse remained calm; she was no longer afraid.

She leaned into him, placing her face dangerously close to his. "If you want my blood…" Her tongue darted out as she ran it along his jaw, stopping her mouth at his ear. He felt her hot breath, as she whispered seductively to him.

" ** _just take it_** "

She forced her hand over his mouth, shutting her eyes as tears fell. This would be her fate.

[-]

Her blood…the taste was sweeter than anything known to man. The beast commanded his tongue to lick the wound, reveling in the ambrosia that followed. The liquid flowed out and down his throat, and he moaned.

His eyes sprung open, and he harshly wrenched her hand back. His canines were fully exposed, and an anxious growl resonated through his throat. Some of her blood had smeared across his mouth.

 _"_ _ **Do…not…tempt…me.**_ _"_

He snarled, the fangs increasing in length even more. His eyes were a fire red. He shoved her back against the wall, arms locking her in on each side. He leaned down…sniffing at the vein in her neck, which expanded and contracted at a steady, strong pace. A long tongue ran along the skin, feeling the heavy vibrations of her heart beat.

The faintest moan came from her, and that erotic scent swayed across his senses. Her heartbeat began to increase. His beast strained against him. A guttural growl ripped from his throat, as he slammed his fist into the wall. He forced his body backwards, using the momentum to sprint out of the room, over the balcony wall, and into the damp streets below.

He would hunt tonight…until the beast was quelled.

[-]

Natalie was destitute. She stared at the shattered remains of the mirror frame. She giggled, taking another swallow of the bottle of whiskey she found, hidden behind one of the many cupboard doors in the clinic. Was it sanitary? Eh, who knows. It was alcohol.

She was laying on her back across a large table, her left leg hanging off the edge. She had taken off the overcoat, vest, and ripped that stupid collar off her shirt. Unfortunately, it had also torn most of the front. It was ugly anyways.

"Me and my baby…me and my _bloodstyle_."

She snorted. She really had no idea what the fuck that song ever meant, but it seemed appropriate here.

Maybe this was hell. Maybe not. Maybe simply a dimensional shift, an alternative reality where the fabric of the universes touched for only a split second. At least the way in was shattered. She couldn't imagine what would have happened if Jenn had been sucked in.

No one should have to go through this. However, Jenn always carried candy on her. She could use some candy right now. She sat up, looking back at the crooked stitch job she had given herself on her hand, and compared it to the nice and straight one on her arm. It was pretty Frankenstein-worthy, and sore. Performing medical care on yourself while drunk had its negatives…but the alcohol helped keep the pain down.

Rightfully plastered, she attempted to roll off the table, falling instead, and landing with a thud on the wooden floor. She laughed. Looking up, she saw that her bottle was still upright on her hand.

"Now…that…that is skill."

Two leather boots, covered in blood, appeared in her vision.

She let her forehead thump on the wooden floor, then awkwardly rolled herself over, lying spread eagle, looking up.

She took another swig of her whiskey, coughing as it burned the back of her throat, spilling most of it on her face. She giggled and coughed at the same time, wiping it off with the back of her hand. A black figure clouded her vision. He was looking down at her.

"I'm going to rip that shit off your gorgeous face." Wow, she _was_ drunk.

"Have you been drinking?"

She belched. "I have no idea where you would get that impression, _Mr. Pettrene_." She giggled, and belted out the next song that popped into her head.

"Hey there little red riding hood…you sure are lookin' good…you're everything…a big, bad wolf could want." She howled.

A large hand grabbed her left arm, and pulled.

She lied there like dead weight, laughing. She felt an arm snake under her legs and back, and suddenly was hauled off the floor. The whiskey bottle dropped, shattering upon impact.

"Awww… You know how long that took me to find that?" She felt like they were moving fast, and images of stone flew past her peripheral vision. "Like… _forever_." They were going somewhere, she wasn't sure. Probably back to a lantern.

She hooked her arm around his neck, tighter, and leaned in close, smelling the musky leather, mixed with the metallic tinge of blood.

"God, you smell good." A drunken thought bubbled up, and she leaned in, whispering in his ear. " _What does your blood taste like_?"

She felt herself free fall, plunging into ice cold water. Her senses came barreling back, as she felt the sides of something, and hauled herself up to the surface.

Her head broke the surface, as she gasped for air.

"It is not proper for a lady to conduct herself in such a manner."

She opened her eyes. He was sitting on the edge of what was…was this a horse trough? His face was covered again, but she was pretty sure she could make out the outline of a smirk. His brown eyes twinkled behind his glasses.

She glared at him. An idea struck her. "Oh, owe…I think something hit that cut on my arm." He leaned over to look, and she grabbed his collar, hauling him in, while pushing up to jump out of the trough, landing haphazardly on the floor. She hefted herself to her feet and started sprinting down the street.

Probably a stupid idea.

She crashed into someone, falling backwards, hard, on her ass. She looked up, it was a skinny old man.

"Sir, I'm so sorry! Are you ok." She was leaning forward, hand out, a concerned look on her face.

The old man slowly turned around, facing her. Sickly white legs and arms poked out below a tattered gray garment. She looked at the face.

 _Oh shit…_

She immediately started crab walking backwards. The thing swiped at her with elongated claws, slicing the top of her thigh open through her soaked pants. She lost her balance and fell flat on her back.

The head started to morph, as it stood over her. A sickening gurgle resonated, and a slimy, white tube slowly slithered its way out of a split in the grotesque face.

It was truly terrifying. She laid there, propped up on her elbows, stunned…she couldn't stop staring. She was frozen in fear. It tilted back, making a horrific shriek, as the slimy appendage fluttered wildly.

Suddenly, she heard the whiff of an object move above her, as something hit monster, burrowing deep within its mutated face. It squealed, flaying about, while a white substance pooled between its legs onto the murky stone road. It fell over, twitching sporadically in its own blood. The weapon embedded in its face was familiar. She blinked, looking to the side.

A very wet Alex was straightening his stance. He had lost his hat and jacket, and his shaggy, dark hair swung in his eyes. He moved forward, his boot heals making clicks on the stone, as he made his way to the dead monstrosity. He put his boot on its chest, then yanked his weapon out of its face. More pale liquid pooled out, causing a small river of white to flow into the street.

Natalie was still stunned. She made no sound, no movement, her breathing slow and steady. He turned to her and casually walked over, crouching next to her while balancing on his feet. He ran a finger across one of the bleeding slashes in her upper thigh, then brought it to his mouth, licking the contents off.

Maybe it was still the effects of the alcohol, maybe she was messed up in the head, or maybe it was the adrenaline rush of what just happened, but she found it extremely erotic. She looked at him with half lidded eyes.

He turned back to the still bleeding corpse behind them. "This…probably isn't the best place to linger."

She fell backwards, lying flat on the ground, and letting out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"I need to…sober up."

She felt herself being pulled to her feet. He held onto her with his free hand, while the other carried his weapon. Occasionally, he would stop, sniffing the air, then change direction.

Were they lost? None of this seemed familiar. They passed some empty dog cages, with mutated corpses of canines spread out in front of them. Crossing a small bridge, he made a sharp left to a door.

He put his hand on her back and eased her in first, shutting the door and latching it behind him. It was dark, but she could make out the edges of a small, one bedroom house. A lantern light flared, and objects became clearer. She noticed a fireplace on the left side.

Were they going to dry their items and clothes off? Was a lamppost too far away? They'd have to double back later to get the items she left in the clinic. She leaned over, removing one of her boots. It was soaked. Everything on her was.

"Can we light a fire, or is that a bad idea? Where's the closest lamppost?"

"Fire is fine. The beasts here are afraid of it, and will avoid smoky areas, generally, at first. The next lamppost is a good distance off, and you're still intoxicated. Considering that the first thing you did on your feet was run into a brainsucker, we should probably wait until you're more cognitive."

She cringed.

She slipped the other soaked boot over, and walked over to the fire place. There were some striking sticks, and a fair bit of dry wood off to the side. She struck the sticks, and the wood caught aflame quickly: only minimal poking being required. She kneeled in front, sticking her damp hands out, soaking in the warmth. He had his back turned to her, working on the various latches of his vest.

She stood up, untucking the ripped shirt, and dropping her soak pants to the floor. The shirt fell to mid-thigh. It was plenty long enough. She laid out her pants next to her boots in front. Pressing against her chest, she frowned; her breast band was soaked. She would need to sit in front of the fire for a while.

She looked at her sewing attempt on her hand.

 _That_ …would probably need to come out and be redone. She cringed, and dug through a basket she saw some cloth bandages hanging out of, finding some black, coarse thread and a needle.

"God, I wish they had pain killers. Like a giant, bucket of morphine laced with lidocaine." She looked at her hand. "Hey, do you have a knife, or something sharp?"

She felt a body sit on the floor. He had situated himself in front of her, their knees touching. Most of his outfit had been removed, leaving only his trousers on. It was the first time she had seen the full extent of his chest, and she noticed the vague scars that covered its surface. Guess the little zombies could only do so much.

Her head pounded, but she began to feel the effects of the booze in her system kick start into hyper drive. Maybe what she drank hadn't been alcohol, or it might have been mixed with something, because this was far from normal. It _was_ from that clinic, after all.

He took her hand with his left, and waived a pair of crude scissors around in his right. She turned her head; this was going to hurt like hell. He slipped the scissors underneath, cutting the black string. He used it to pull the thread out, a little at a time, trying to be as gentle as possible. Occasionally, she would freeze and hiss, and her fingers would shake a little.

"Natalie…I am…sorry." He had left her to stitch her own wounds, a trembling mess, as so many times before.

"Shut up." The hangover was rearing its ugly head in full force, and her patience level was at zero. "Stop trying to apologize for your alternate personality. It doesn't know the difference between me, a corpse, or a doll. _You_ , have made things perfectly clear, though."

He pulled the last thread out, and she released a large sigh, wiggling her fingers. He dug in the basket, pulling out a new thread and cutting a sizable length.

"I think…you misunderstand my feelings."

The needle stabbed through the sore skin, and a tear escaped, as she gritted her teeth.

"No, I understand them. I am more disappointed with myself."

He stopped, glancing up at her, while he kept his head lowered. "Care to elaborate?"

She let silence fall, as the pain in her hand started to match the pain in her head. Her eyes were moving in and out of focus, and she strained to keep herself positioned upright.

"No." The last poke was made, and he tied the stitch off, trimming the excess thread. She grabbed another bandage from the basket, and moved away from him, turning her back. She much preferred to wallow in her own self-pity.

"If I told you that I loved you, would you believe it?"

She stopped pulling at the cloth strip. "No."

"Why?"

"A variety of reasons: my mannerisms offend you, you love some… _thing_ else…" It hurt. Everything hurt. Her hand, her brain, and her heart. What had she done to deserve this punishment? She thought back to when she first was yanked through the mirror, and the painful memory of being on that table, with tubes out of her arm.

"This is my own hell, Alexander, and you are the biggest part of it. My own, personal demon, created to torment me, unending. Forgive me if I no longer seem eager to engage in conversation with you." She dabbed at her hand, trying to wrap it, and dropped the bandage in the process, as her focus was distorted. She openly sobbed as blood seeped out through the stitches. She cared not.

The sounds of his footsteps were heard, as well as the opening and closing of the door. His scent was gone, and the pain in her heart started to settle. She leaned in closer to the fire, allowing the heat to dry as much skin as possible. Water dripped down her back and stomach from her soaked upper clothing. Her arm and hand were bandaged up as well as she could get them. A few wraps of cloth were around her thigh.

His weapon was still on the floor. She pulled herself up, her mind swirling around, as the world tilted. Somehow, she managed to pick it up by the handle. Stumbling over to the door, she cracked it open wide enough to toss it out in the street. She slammed the door shut, as she let out a whimper, grabbing at her head, and latched it, locking herself in. She sat back in front of the fire and curled up in a fetal position, as the alcohol in her system pushed itself forward for a second wind.

She eventually passed out.

[-]

He returned a while later. The incense still burned, and most of the beasts had given the area a wide berth. He went to open the door handle and found that it would not budge. He stepped over, glancing through the cracks of the curtains through the window. The fire had died down to embers, and her saw her curled form lying on the floor.

She had fallen asleep.

The glimmer of something caught his eye, and he turned, seeing his weapon lying in the middle of the street. His head hung low, as he walked over, swiping it off the ground. He moved some crates, and pulled himself up on top of the roof top of the small flat. He would wait for her. A dog, waiting for its master.


	12. Chapter 12

She was leaning over the zombie bird bath, groaning. To the side was a pile of spit intermixed with whiskey. She had not eaten anything for months, so there was simply nothing in her stomach to throw up. She didn't remember much of her night out, after drinking herself into a stupor in the clinic, but Alex had been acting odd ever since she woke up. He kept giving her these pitiful looks. She examined her stitched palm, trying to focus on something to stop the world from spinning. Maybe she had been a little… _overdramatic_.

"Zombie babies. Please. I need aspirin, pronto."

They splashed around, oblivious to the jack hammer wailing away on her brain. She groaned, and fell to the ground, curling in on herself. It's not like she would have been able to keep from throwing up anything she swallowed, anyways.

"Here, drink this."

She barely opened her eyes, and saw a glass with a dark liquid in front of her face. Her hand shook a bit as she grabbed it. If it killed her, all the better. She propped up a bit, causing herself to gag slightly as her stomach continued to churn. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, downing the entire glass.

Then she rolled over on her hands and knees, near her first attempt at a pile of puke. She was preparing to hurl. The pounding in her brain was causing her eyes to twitch. A couple of deep breaths; nothing.

The pain stopped, and her stomach had started to settle. Her eyes became more focused, and she realized she was roughly an inch away from her first successful attempt to vomit. She backed up, and rolled onto her rear, crossing her legs underneath her in her typical sitting position.

She touched her temples and forehead. "What…wow…"

She heard him chuckle. "My lady, with all your technology, and your society has yet to perfect a cure to one of the most common ailments of mankind?"

"Shut it, Count Chocula." She remained on the ground, although she felt immensely better.

Her mind strained to remember the events of the last night…or day, time was difficult to deduce when it seemed to be frozen. She had woken up in some dungy shack by herself, with her pants on the floor. Crude bandages were wrapped around her leg, as she had apparently received some sort of slash across her thigh. She fell over twice, trying to get her pants on, and when she finally unlocked the front door, she saw a half-naked, haggard Alex looking right back at her.

"You look how I feel."

"Charmed. May I please come in to retrieve my attire?"

She put her hand on her head, grimacing from the sharp pain that flared. "Yeah, whatever…"

Somehow, he had managed to drag her back to a lamppost, where she barely crawled to the current position she found herself at. Half her shit was missing, but she was in no mood to go retrieve it.

She pulled at her front shirt, as a grimace formed on her mouth. It was ripped to hell.

"Yeah…um, sorry about this shirt…I hope it wasn't sentimental."

He shook his head, a constant smile plastered on his face. She hefted the torn material over her head, and threw it in the bird bath. "Go nuts." She had the breast band still wrapped around her torso from the night before. She was pretty sure her boobs were permanently deformed at this point. She missed the conveniences of her world, such as bras. The one she was wearing when she arrived had fallen apart within the first few months. The breast band was useful, but it was awfully uncomfortable.

And corsets? _No._

She stood up, walking past him, as she caught his eyes glancing up and down her mostly bare torso. Ignoring it, she walked towards her section of the Workshop, and looked in her box. Empty. She glanced at the pile next to it, and frowned; she had forgotten to do laundry.

A low groan rumbled in her throat. She would have to look in that fucking chest again. She pulled on her boots, taking them off one at a time, and throwing them on top of the growing pile of dirty clothes. Heading to the opposite side of the room, she knelt in front of the chest, and took a deep breath.

"May I ask what you are looking for in my belongings, my lady?"

She looked down at her exposed abdomen. It was flatter than before, thanks to Gehrman's brutal training sessions, but she was far from being in the kind of shape to waltz around like it was Baywatch.

"I need to borrow some clothes. At least a shirt."

"Do most in your society simply issue a request with no form of polite closure?"

Her head twisted towards him, and her eyes narrowed. "Since I am being held here against my will, I dare say the desire for such pleasantries has lost its luster. Besides, I'm 'bloody daft'." She mimicked his accent, turning away from him and opening the chest lid.

He closed his eyes, cursing himself.

She was rummaging through the contents, pushing glass jars to the side that were full of putrid remains of… _something_. Her hand touched a hard object, and she felt around it, hauling it up into her vision. It was some sort of solid, rock-like tube, with a reddish color in the middle. She pulled it out more, and sat back on her heels, looking it over. She moved her right hand, and saw it was covered in blood.

 _It was bleeding?_

"You look confused."

"This isn't a rock…is it?" She looked up at him with questioning eyes.

"That is a blood shard. It forms in coldblood. Rare, but not as rare as the larger forms."

"Coldblood?"

He knelt down on the other side of her, rummaging through the chest. "You are intelligent. You tell me what you think coldblood may infer."

She looked at the item in her hand, then threw it off to the side, wiping her hands on her pant legs. He grinned to himself, as he moved some heavier items to the side. If she was going to the Nightmare with him, she would need something to help protect her against the dangers there.

"Natalie, I want to apologize for earlier. For all of it, ever since you first arrived. I have been incredibly unfair and have mistreated you. There is no excuse for that, my lady." He had a feeling her memory lapsed during, and after, her time at the clinic, and he doubted she remembered much of their conversation at the old woman's house.

She saw him pull something gray from the chest. "It's okay. I'm not exactly the _easiest_ person to get along with."

He chuckled. "I would like to make amends, by offering to take you into the Nightmare with me."

Her hands clasped together, as a radiant smile spread across her lips. She stared over at him, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Also, you will need new attire." He handed her the gray items. "You might find this, _slightly_ , familiar." He winked at her.

She looked down at the outfit in her hands, and pulled on the first item in the bundle. Strips of gray jingled, as she held up the chest piece. She looked at him with her brow wrinkled.

"Look, I got drunk _one time_. Come on…"

He laughed, slamming the lid shut.

[-]

She was sitting on the rock wall, next to Ms. Dolly, waiting for Alex to get his things. Her cane tapped against the stone, as she looked over her new outfit. All that was missing was a liquor flask. She pulled at one of the large, ripped panels that covered her chest. It was gray and stained. She frowned.

She glanced around, taking in the same site she had grown to call home, all these months later. It never changed, and maybe that, in of itself, was a blessing in disguise. She always felt her sanity return whenever they would come back from the other realms. It was as if that bloodied, ominous moon in the sky was causing her to lose her mind. The only place it seemed to belong…was here.

Her thoughts returned to her stalwart companion, busying himself in the Workshop above. Had her feelings changed? Had the few times she let her guard down in the various nightmares…was that only insanity? Or, was it her?

She glanced at Ms. Dolly, who merely stood motionless, blankly staring ahead with dead eyes. Did he still love her? Ms. Dolly was unable to return his love, but could she, perhaps, learn to?

Natalie looked at her ungloved hands, now covered in scars and nicks. She ran a finger down the stitches in her palm. He must have fixed it at some point, after she blacked out. It was when he did things like this, the simple, silent gestures, which caused her to question her emotions at hand.

Her smile started to fade, as a thought formed. She did not belong here. She was crude and crass. Her behaviors and mannerisms heralded a different era, a different reality entirely. There were no ladies, there were no gentlemen. It was you looking out for yourself, and the few you let into your inner circle. Really, the only value she added to her new existence was her blood. She sighed loudly, blowing some of the hair from her face that had already fallen out of her tie.

"Something troubles you, my lady?"

She looked up. Alex was standing before her, wearing the same outfit from the man in the college…the one that had killed him. The black strips of cloth moved a little with every small movement. The Venetian doctor's mask shrouded his face, and casted shadows over his eyes. She saw no expression, only a black void. In his left hand was a smaller pistol, and in his right, the Blade of Mercy.

Her eyebrow raised, as she slyly grinned. "A new tactic, my lord?"

He chuckled behind the creepy mask.

She hopped off the wall, and turned to the doll.

"Ms. Dolly, until I return." She bowed, then faced her feathered friend.

"Let's roll."

[-]

She heard the distant cackles of a madman in the distance. Her hand latched around Alex's elbow, as she pulled him back a bit, fear in her eyes.

"Alex…this place. It's… _wrong_." She kept her voice hushed.

He put a gloved hand over hers, and squeezed. "I know."

They had stepped into a great room, where mirrors aligned the floor at random. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and a short, stumpy figure was walking towards them. Their heads were covered in a silver mask, that ended at their necks. It fit like a helmet, blocking out any visibility of a "face" underneath. White, grotesque legs and feet pattered about. She scratched her head; that seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place where.

"My lady, you seem perplexed?"

She leaned in closer to him, as one of the little weird, masked people walked by, aimlessly wandering about. "That, and very creeped out, right now. The sickly white legs seem familiar, but…that just, makes no sense. I've never seen these _people_ before. People, right?"

The many times he had come here, and died, he had learned not to fear these creatures. However, it was best that they not get behind you. He rubbed at his side, which still ached from a knife that ran through it.

"The remnants of the School of Mensis. At least, that is a theory of mine. The smaller, _students_ , will not harm you…usually."

"Usually?" Her eyes widened, as another one came near.

He shrugged, moving forward. She stuck close by, frantically glancing behind her around every few seconds to make sure nothing was at her back. They walked through a corridor that opened into a grand chamber. The opposite walls could not be seen, due to the blackness, but it appeared as though the middle of the floor had caved in, leaving a giant hole.

"Oh, look!" She pushed past him, running up to the large mirror propped against the wall. He kept the Blade of Mercy ready, gripping the handle in his right hand. Some of Mergo's chief attendants still roamed the area. He had found it simpler to sneak past them on his repeated trips to battle the host.

She touched the surface: hard and smooth. Her reflection stared back at her. The dirty gray covered her body, and she touched her hands to her face. She had not seen herself since she arrived.

"I look…so worn. Tired..." He walked next to her, noticing his image as well. It was the same as it had always been. He looked at her through the reflection, as she stepped closer to the mirror, taking her hat off and tilting her face to the side, as she poked and prodded.

"My lady?"

"Scars."

She had nicked herself a few times with the cane. It was an unfortunate side effect from first learning to wield it, and she had been unaware to the extent of the cuts.

"Oh well, nothing I can do about it now." She stepped back from the mirror, examining the frame. "So…I'm going to guess no one has a clue how these mirrors can be _attuned_?"

The ominous laughter echoed in the distance.

"No one sane, at least."

Her eyes wondered to her companion's reflection, next to her. The black voids over his eyes stared blankly back at the mirror. She turned to face him.

"Alex…if we, somehow, manage to get this to work, would you want to come back with me?" Her eyes were large, as she looked at him full of hope and kindness. "I know it's not what you're from, but it would get you out of this hell. There is a lot you could do with your life, and I would take care of you." She looked off to the side. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how to get you a social security card, but…we'd figure it out."

He noticed some movement from the corner of his eye, and whipped his head to the right. A chief attendant was barreling towards them, the chain and giant axe in each hand. It lifted its right arm, holding the chain high, then twisting forward. The end of it connected with the mirror's surface, as glass shattered. Natalie backed up against the wall, firing the Evelyn. The bullet bounced off the metallic chest piece it wore over its bloated stomach.

"Oh, come on!" She ducked as the chain took a large chunk of the stone wall out above her head. She saw the fast movement of Alex's form out of the corner of her eye. The large creature readied to charge at her with the axe, suddenly halting, as it roared in pain. She heard the clang of the Blade of Mercy splitting into two, as Alex drove the blades into the small crevice between the helmet and chest piece. Twisting, he severed most of their neck, pulling out as the large body collapsed to the floor.

She watched as he slid the blades back to together, twisting his wrist with ease. He walked back to her. "There is one more mirror, that has not been destroyed. It is in a place I would much rather not take you." Her mouth opened to protest, and he put a bloodied finger on her lips. "However, I vowed that I would assist you with your efforts to return home, and I am a man of my word."

She spit frantically, her face in complete disgust. "I take it back, you're not coming with me."

He laughed.

[-]

"Natalie…" He gripped her shoulder, as they hid within the shadows. The mad cackling was louder, and she could hear the random footsteps of the psycho with the giant, hexagonal cage on his head. She focused on the black holes of Alex's mask. She really hated his outfit.

A gloved hand tucked under her chin, and he rubbed it with his thumb. "I have died many times to this man and the various beings that he ushers forth. It may be…gruesome. You may hear things…and be tempted to come for me. But I beg of you, whatever happens, _stay hidden_."

He leaned near her, as his hand continued to cup her chin. He twitched forward, but stopped, almost immediately, as though his mind had a second thought. He let go of her chin. "There is a crevice behind you. I would like you to remain there. I will be back, I promise."

He turned to crawl out of the shadows, looking around the dilapidated wall they were hidden behind. She snatched his coat, pulling him back into her; the momentum causing him to move forward on his knees, and put his right arm out to steady himself. She grabbed his face with her hands, and stared into the black voids.

She lifted the mask up, letting it fall to the side, as his unruly hair tumbled forward. Brown eyes gazed into hers, with slight confusion and wonderment. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, as she tilted her head to the side, and connected their lips.

It took a few seconds before she felt him respond, and she softly swept her tongue across his. A low growl vibrated from his throat, and she broke the kiss before it developed into something more. She picked up his mask from the ground, and handed it to him, keeping her vision focused on the smooth tile below. Her body turned, and she crawled away, shrouding herself within the small recess in the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest. Looking up, she saw that he was gone. Taking a deep breath, she tried to prepare herself for the worst.

[-]

The noises…they were driving her _mad_. The maze of hallways echoed the grotesque pulling of tissue and snapping of bones. His shouts…that was the worst. He would _scream_.

She pulled on her hair, her hands crushed over her ears, as tears fell uncontrollably. She rocked back and forth. In her panic, she had inadvertently let a sob out.

Micolash's head turned to the noise. How clever, the Hunter brought a friend, now did he? He walked past the quartered and decapitated form of his adversary on the ground, and headed towards a darkened hallway, to the left.

Natalie still had her hands over her ears, as she leaned against the wall, exhausted. Her eyes were closed, as she tried to calm her breathing down. It felt like an eternity had passed. She had quit counting the deaths after six.

A brightness flared, and her eyes sprung open. She found herself looking into the face of the madman, peering in on her from a few feet away. She yelped, trying to push back, only to find there was nothing more than the small space she already occupied.

He raised his hand, his palm facing the stowaway, readying the Augur of Ebrietas. The woman stared at him; unknowing, terrified. She seemed… _different_. He lowered his hand, turning the palm upwards, and offering it to her instead.

"Come. I will not harm you…" He laughed, ending in a giggle. He bent his fingers away from her, signaling her to come out. She stared at him with wide eyes, frozen.

"Would you prefer to sit in the dark, clinging to your beastly idiocy?"

She blinked a few times. "Did you just call me an idiot? I'm not the one running around with a cage on my head."

Micolash gave her a maddening grin. "Ah, so you wish to be granted eyes then? Come, let us sit about, and speak feverishly." He stuck his hand out to her again. She reluctantly put her hand in his, and he pulled her up from the crevice near the ground.

She got a closer look at him. His hair was a wavy mess of black, coming down to the nape of his neck. Piercing and crazed, light blue eyes stared at her; his pupils dilated in a self-induced high. He wore a black robe, similar to what professors wear at graduations. Underneath was an oddly designed suit, that reminded her of something archeologists wore during excavations in the 1800's.

He kept staring at her with the crazy smile. She frantically tried feeling for her gun, realizing that she had left it behind her in the crevice. How could she have been so stupid as to forget her cane back in the Dream? She glanced back and forth between the floor and his crazed stare, becoming more terrified as he refused to lessen the intensity of his stare. "Um…what did you want to talk about?" Her voice shook in fear.

"New ideas, of the higher plane! The cosmos, of course!" He raised his hands up, and looked up to the ceiling. She wasn't exactly sure how the cage stayed on. Maybe it had been screwed into his collar bone? The thing was ridiculous and painful looking. She thought back to the skeleton she saw in Yar-har-har. Were they attempting to… _communicate_ , with something? Like a TV antennae?

"So, like…astronomy, and hard facts? Or do you want to talk about things like Relativity, more abstract theories?"

His maniacal grim faded, as his eyelids resumed a normal position. He slowly lowered his head, facing it towards her; a look of curiosity prevailed.

"Were you chosen by _them_? Do you have eyes on your brain? I sense you are different…that you are not of this nightmare, or this…dream." He put his hands behind his back, and started to pace.

"Perhaps…no…no, that may be fatal. But knowledge is never gained from the meek, now is it?" He looked to her. "The Brian…it sees all, yet, it has not seen you. I wonder…what would it do?"

She stepped back, shaking her head in panic. "No, please…no."

He titled his head, and the massive cage with it. "Tell me, how did you gain eyes?"

"Eyes? You…grow them? I guess you can receive some from a donor." She was confused. Looking around, she noticed that the only exit seemed to be behind him. She grabbed at her right arm, squeezing her elbow nervously.

His outlandish smile returned. "Then you would give me some of yours, as a donation, perhaps?"

She tried to east herself towards the exit, shaking her head, once again. "I kind of need them…"

His smile turned into a sneer, as his eyes darkened, and he lifted his hand up. " _Then I will take them from you…for I host this nightmare, and I will not sit aside again, as I had with Rom."_

His hand started to become encased in black, as she saw slimy tentacles shoot out. They impacted her chest, sending her flying back into a rubble of decayed books near the wall. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, as she fell over, struggling to maintain consciousness.

A black blur sped forward, slicing into his outstretched arm. He wailed and took off in a full sprint in the opposite direction. Alex followed in pursuit; his eyes a fierce red. This would be the last chase he would give this prey, before his claws ripped them to shreds. He would go about it differently this time…he would keep close, no matter what.

Again, they engaged in their game of hide and seek. Alex kept pushing, harder, faster, swiping at every available chance, like a madman, himself. Micolash was becoming covered in blood, as more cuts sliced his skin open. Finally, Alex had him cornered in a large chamber, appearing to be central to the hellish library.

Natalie had managed to push herself back up, and stumbled towards the direction of where the noise from the fight emanated. She spotted a railing, and slipped through the doorway into the chamber. Below her she saw Alex, dodging around with furious speed, as he cut at the wailing madman. She saw the caged man lean back, and in an instant, a massive bright light burst forth, whipping blue streaks through the atmosphere. The bulk of the energy hit Alex, causing him to stagger.

The one mirror remained. Natalie was watching them from the balcony, her Evelyn raised. She saw the madman's eyes quickly glance towards his salvation and exit. The silver surface almost sparkled. More skeletons were coming, and Alex was becoming bombarded; still trying to recover from the massive blast he had just received in his chest. If Micolash teleported, it would only keep happening, again…and again.

Would the mirror give her what she wanted? To return home? Is that all that mattered anymore? She saw a skeleton sneak up behind, slicing Alex across his back. He cried out in pain, and fell to the floor.

The madman dashed, his fingers nearly scraping the metallic, rippling surface. A loud shot echoed, and he saw the mirror shatter before his eyes. The momentum from his dash had caused him to step into nothingness, catching himself on a few broken shards that jetted out of the frame, cutting into his shoulders. He let loose a high-pitched scream, in desperation.

Another shot was fired, and he looked down, putting his fingers near the new hole in his chest. He gradually looked up to see the mysterious woman, her gun still smoking, as she enacted her judgement from above. The skeletons crumbled, as his control over the nightmare waned. He fell to the floor, whimpering. "Now I'm waking up, I'll forget everything…"

She moved fast, bolting out of the doorway, and down a series of steps, dodging in and out of the maze of hallways lined with books. The summoned beings from before had all perished, leaving only skeletal remains dotting the ornate tile floor. She sprinted into the room where Alex was, lying on his chest in the same spot.

Her knees hit the hard ground, and she carefully removed his mask, seeing if he was still conscious. The wound on his back had bled, and a small river of red trailed towards a low point on the floor.

"Alex…can you hear me?"

She held his head in her hands, moving it enough so his cheek was cradled in her palm. Subtle movements were felt, as his jaw flexed. "Remember…at the college…you had called me…something."

Her eyes softened, and she ran her finger across his bruised cheek. She knew exactly what he was referring to. "Darlin'…"

"Yes…I rather…liked that." A warm smile spread on his face, as he remained on the ground. "I am of… little use... My spine…the nerves…my legs…"

He grimaced in pain, as she saw some flexing in his shoulders, followed by a deadness below. She looked around the room, noticing a lamppost that had appeared recently. She carefully laid his head down, and hurried over, lighting the lantern. She saw the zombie babies pop out, happily reaching for her.

She went back to Alex, cradling his head again, turning it to the side so she could see some of his face. She gently caressed his cheek.

"I'm going to lift you, but it is going to hurt. I need to pull you to the lantern. Please forgive me…"

His eyes slowly closed, as a weak nod was felt.

Her hands moved, wrapping one around his right arm. She lifted it up across her shoulder, hanging onto the arm, as she lifted with her legs. A scream tore from his throat, and his body shook violently. She pulled him with her to the lantern. His breath was hard and pained. He whimpered, sobbing in short bursts.

They finally stumbled to the lantern, and she dropped to the floor, his arm still around her. She watched as tiny white hands grabbed onto them, and her vision finally faded. She breathed out in relief.


	13. Chapter 13

NSFW - This chapter is smutty, especially towards the end.

On the blood cocktail item description in the game, it mentions something about how more blood was produced than alcohol, because blood was more intoxicating. That's kind of my theme in this chapter.

[-][-][-][-][-]

"Natalie, I'd like to speak with you."

She had her leg bent, and her arm propped over the knee, holding a different _kind_ book. This wasn't some historical account of the city, or a dissertation on local politics. She had decided to spoil herself, and truly relax from their most recent ordeal. It was a romance novel.

 _And she had just gotten to the juicy part…_

She sighed, and shut the book, trying to wipe the flush off her face. She looked up at him.

"What's on your mind?"

He was wearing his usual white shirt and black trousers, with knee high boots. She thanked God for that…the bird outfit needed to be burned. His dark eyes gazed into hers, and she glanced to the side to break the intensity.

"The mirror…the last one. You shattered it."

She looked at him, mostly expressionless. "Yes."

"Why?"

She shrugged, and opened her book, flipping back to the beginning of the chapter. "A change of heart." She had spoken into the book.

"You do realize you will, most likely, never return?"

The words on the page started to merge together, as her eyes became teary.

"Yes." She croaked out a broken response.

She felt him sit next to her, and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head on his chest, the smell of spice hitting her nose. She took in a shaky, deep breath, as she stared out onto the misty border in the distance.

"I like it when you smell like this, and not sweaty leather."

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head and rubbing the side of her shoulder. He looked at the book in her hands. An eyebrow raised.

"I don't think that's an appropriate subject for a lady to read."

She laughed, jabbing him in the side, and hopped up to head back to the Workshop.

[-]

"In various _mythology_ , the moon has commonly been attributed to causing people to act…not themselves. Creatures, such as werewolves, only come out during full moons. I have theorized that this, sort of, explains you."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She was sitting on the pile of books next to his workbench, as he waited for her vein to rise.

"I prefer not to be compared to a dog, my lady."

"Well, you don't have fleas. However, there is an old saying that goes something like 'all men are dogs'." She flashed him a cheesy grin.

He stabbed her arm, and she flinched. "You like pain, _way too much_." She had turned her head away, looking at table where the weird, torture device rested.

"Are you ever going to do that thing again, where you stabbed yourself in the brain with a metal chopstick?"

He slowly pulled the needle out, and put the vial to the side, as he rummaged for another bandage to wrap her arm with. "Yes."

"That was horrible to watch."

His head tilted, as he glanced at the side of her face. She was staring at the marking tool on table, saddened.

"I apologize, I did not realize you were awake at the time."

She turned back, looking at her arm as he wrapped it. "It's hard to sleep when someone you care about cries out in pain."

He tied off the wrapping. "I feel unworthy of your affections."

She narrowed her eyes. "Sometimes I can never figure out if you're being sarcastic or genuine. In this case, I'm going to take it as sarcasm, and respond in kind: blow me."

His eyes flashed a light red haze, as he leaned into her, coming less than an inch from her face. His lips formed a circle, and he blew in her face.

She shoved him back, laughing. "Smart-ass." He grinned.

He turned his gaze back to the vial of her blood on the bench. His bloodlust had started to increase, and he knew that he would need to do something to sate his cravings. His eyes darted to the female.

 _His female_.

The beast growled, restless. The carnal thoughts were returning, as she sat, relaxed in front of him; a warm expression and smile on her pink lips. Her scent became stronger, as the beast started to usher up from the depths. Her legs were crossed, as she obliviously bounced one of them.

"So, where to next, my lord?" Her smile persisted, as she winked at him.

His head dropped lower, his eyes maintaining their focus on her, as a devious grin spread across his mouth. " _Wherever my lady desires_."

She looked at him, her eyebrows pushed together. He was going to have an episode soon, she just had _that feeling_. She turned her head, glancing out onto the familiar skyline she had grown accustomed to. Her thoughts returned to the last memory she had of this: Cainhurst.

Her head shifted back towards him, as he casually leaned against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him. He was waiting for her answer. She frowned. His beast personality was ruled by a primitive mindset only; it did not matter who, or what, she was. It simply mattered that she was alive and near.

Her eyes fell to the floor, as she shrugged. "I'm flexible." She looked up at him, while keeping her head tilted towards the floor. "Am I the only, living, female, you know of?"

An eyebrow raised, as he looked at her peculiarly. "No, there are others. One, in particular, resides in the Chapel. However, I am afraid her grasp on sanity had reached its breaking point, quite some time ago." He continued looking at her. "Why do you ask?"

She waived her hand at the vial of her blood on the table. "I can tell…when the episodes are nearing."

He glanced to the floor, thinking about the terminology she chose, trying to understand what she was referring to. The beast was anxious, becoming bored, and twisted in his veins. His eyes snapped to hers. He understood.

"Ah, you believe it is primeval motivations. Yes, and no, my lady. You, however, have been the one more forthcoming, as of late." A devious grin spread across his lips. "Perhaps I should be the one questioning if an 'episode' should come to pass with you."

Her cheeks reddened, and her pulse picked up a quicker pace. He chuckled, changing the subject.

"Would you have truly taken me to your world, Natalie?"

She tilted her head, a look of slight surprise on her face. "Of course. You think I would leave you here? I would want to take Ms. Dolly, too, but I don't know if she can survive outside of the Dream." She glanced back out the doorway, seeing a small part of the doll's dress moving about in a light breeze. "I feel…as though she is bound to it. You and I, we pass through, another face, another actor in a grand play. The doll, she always remains. Whether she is the slave or the master…I don't know."

"Her blood is pale."

Natalie twisted her head back towards Alex. Her face was contorted into an expression of confusion.

"How do you know this?"

His eyes fell back to the floor, as he pushed off from the wall and walked near his workbench. "I have taken her blood."

"Why?"

"Because it was hers."

She continued staring at his back, as he leaned over his weapon on the bench. "Did it do anything?"

"It…made the bloodlust… _worse_." His fingers dug into his palms, as flashes of painful and crazed memories sprung forward. Eileen had almost killed him. He had come to, on his knees, with her blade pressed against his throat.

"I'm confused. It's different with mine?"

He closed his eyes, calming himself from the horrible events of the past. He focused on her, her voice, the feeling of her in his veins.

"Yes." He straightened his posture, turning to face her. "Every person's blood has different side effects. Some are beneficial, others are detrimental."

She rubbed her hands over her face, looking up at the ceiling. "I just…I really don't get it. It's, like, y'all just running around, giving each other diseases. No wonder this world is fucked." She looked at her hands. "Do you think I'm infected, by now? I know we had this discussion briefly before, but it has been many months since. I definitely _feel_ like I'm crazier."

Alex shook his head. "No, it takes a complete blood transfusion, and many injections, before you permanently become changed." He saw an empty vial next to him, and an idea struck him. He rolled his sleeves up, looking for a recently unused injection point. His veins no longer needed to be eased up to the surface, as his body had become used to process; as though it was second nature.

He stabbed his inner arm, twisting a little, until the needle punctured his vein. Blood flowed out, and he laughed to himself on the inside. It may have been the first time he had ever taken blood _out_ , instead of putting it _in_. Pulling on the needle, he held his finger over the injection site, pressing down. His body healed fast, and it would seal itself within a matter of seconds.

She had watched him the entire time with inquisitive eyes. "You want me to help you bandage that?"

He smiled, and walked towards her, removing his fingers. "No. My body repairs itself at an accelerated rate." He motioned at her arm.

"I promise, you will not become…as you call it, _infected_. It takes much more than this. However, I think it would beneficial for you to understand how addicting blood is."

Her eyebrows hit her hairline. "This is just _blood_. Plasma, proteins, and cells. You don't get high off it. That is scientifically impossible. I mean, I trust you, but then again, I have _no idea_ who you've slept with, and you're constantly running around shoving needles full of strange blood in your body." Her eyes narrowed. "How are you not dead yet, honestly?"

He chuckled, and pulled on her arm. She resisted at first, but slowly let him stretch it out. He felt the inside, getting her vein to rise to the surface. He stabbed the needle in fast, and pushed the contents into her blood stream. She hissed, trying to yank her arm back, but he held it steady. He eased the needle out, and did not cover the injection site.

She put her hand over it, pressing down. "Get me a cloth at least! What is wrong with you?!"

He tossed the empty vial on the bench. "Wait and watch."

She looked down at her arm, and slowly moved her fingers away. Some blood trickled out, but she watched in amazement as the skin began to reform itself over the small hole, sealing her vein. A numbness spread up her arm.

The rush hit her brain, and she leaned back in the chair, gripping the armrests. Her mouth fell open, as she tried to suck in oxygen, and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. Her body started to tremble, and she felt herself sliding to the floor. Something stopped her, and she grabbed around his torso, as the convulsions steadied themselves.

It was not painful…but it was overwhelming. It was stronger than any drug she had taken, and her body felt as though it was about ready to burst. Her lungs kicked in, and she took another ragged breath, trying to cope from the massive sensations that spread over her nervous system.

She felt the soft ground, from outside, on her legs and bottom. Her eyes focused, and she saw herself staring at Alex. He had her hands in his, with their knees pushed together. She glanced around, taking in the scenery she had stared at for many months. Everything was… _different_. She began to panic.

"Alex…what did you do to me?"

He squeezed her hands. "You'll be fine, this is typical for the first time."

"My vision, my thoughts…I feel as though it is speeding out of control, but moving so slow as to almost be frozen." She looked back at him, tilting her head.

He grinned, the dimple on his right cheek showing. "How do you feel?"

She looked down at their intertwined hands. "High as fuck. Like we need to be listening to Cypress Hill right now, watching Friday, while I borderline cut my mouth up with Captain Crunch."

She went to stand up, and he held her hands, stopping her midway. Her focus went back to him. "You should stay put, for at least a little while, my lady."

She snorted. "Ok Charles Dickens. I'll see what I can do." She plopped back down on the ground.

He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. "This is the first time I have ever offered my blood."

A huge grin spread across her face. "I popped your blood cherry. How long does this last?"

"I am unsure, each individual's body reacts differently. It also is dependent on the blood taken. Typically, hours. With blood like yours, weeks."

She released his hands, looking at her right palm with the stitching. The tissue had healed over. She felt underneath her neck, where the few scars were from the cane. They had receded. Another wave of euphoria shimmered down her spine

"Is this what it feels like for you, when you take mine?"

He smiled at her, almost shyly. "Yes."

"I won't bitch about you wanting it anymore. Do you have a knife? I promise I won't stab you."

He raised an eyebrow, and felt down his thigh, taking out the small dagger that he kept above the edge of his boot. He handed it to her, cautiously.

She smiled. "Thank you." She looked at the blade, tilting her head back and forth. She slid it under the stitches, easing them out. The ones further up her arm were still there, and she removed them as well. The small bumps, where the thread had been, began to heal.

"This is… _incredible_."

An idea pooped in her head. The knife flew down, as she sliced her right wrist open, vertically. Blood began to pour, and Alex snatched the knife, throwing it across the yard.

"What are you doing?!" He grabbed her wrist, putting pressure on it.

"Relax, I heal now. Have some." She smiled, pushing her bleeding wrist toward him. "Hurry, or it'll close."

His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. The beast stirred, as his vision began to gain a reddish haze. He looked back to her, as she continued to smile, her eyes sparkling.

He brought her wrist up to his mouth, and licked. His canines began to elongate, as a low growl resonated from his chest. He put his lips around the wound, and sucked hard. Her blood kept pouring into his mouth, and his body began to experience the rapture that only she could give him.

Natalie watched, keenly. It hurt, but not as much as she thought. What was strange was feeling his blood move around, _inside_. It began to increase, as he took more of hers in her mouth. She noticed some of his features change, as his body danced between human and beast, unsure of what it wanted to be. Somehow, she wasn't bothered by it.

Her left hand moved to his face, and she rubbed her thumb across his cheek, as he feasted on her. Reddened, brown eyes locked onto her, and she nodded towards her right arm. "You'll bleed me dry darlin'."

She felt a growl against her skin, as he slowly pulled away. Blood dripped down his chin, and she heard the raspy, deep breathing from his chest. She moved her wrist to her lap, watching as the skin began to fold over itself, stretching…repairing the damage. Her head shook.

"It's all…fantasy. This isn't real. None of it is. I'm still dreaming, I know it." Her eyes glanced to his. He was trying to calm his bloodlust. "If this is a dream, where are you from, in my life? Where have I met you before? Were you a stranger I passed in the grocery store, not taking more than a second glance?"

The red haze lingered, but his features had returned to normal. His voice came out aggressive at first, but she knew he meant no harm. "Why does it matter?"

She tilted her head, smiling. "Because once I awake, I will try to find you. Whether you'll want me, I guess I'll find out."

The redness lingered in his eyes, and she looked at him, concerned. "You're having a hard time controlling it right now. Was it too much blood?"

He unfolded his legs, and propped up on his knees, leaning forward, until she found herself falling back on her elbows. His arms were on each side of her, sticking straight out as he held his torso over hers.

"There are things even the beast desires, much more than your blood, _little girl_."

A seductive smile spread across her face, as another burst from his blood sent shivers down her spine. His mouth found her neck and his teeth grazed along the vein. She tilted her head back, moaning in pleasure. Her eyes opened, and she saw the doll, standing by a gravestone near the Workshop. Natalie snapped out of it, and pushed him off.

"I can't…not here, no." She scrambled to get to her feet, her hand on her head, while the other was on her hip. She paced around in a circle, a perplexed and pained expression on her face. Alex looked behind her, noticing the figure in the distance. He glanced back to Natalie.

"I do not love her, not like what you think. I did at one time, yes, but the Dream and Nightmares cause us to lose ourselves. Have you not experienced it, yourself?"

His blood ran through her veins, at a quickened pace. She stumbled a bit. "Jesus Christ, what is _in_ you?"

He stood up, hooking an arm around her back, as he helped keep her steady. "Come, we'll go someplace different, until it wears off."

[-]

She was in her patched up lounge clothes, barefoot. Her eyebrows raised in questioning expression, once they appeared in the new location. She glanced around.

"It's…the Workshop. But it's… _different_?"

"This is the original Workshop, what the Hunter's Dream is based on. This is where it all began."

Her eyes fell on something familiar, and she jumped over to it.

"Ms. Dolly! Why are you here?"

She stopped. The doll…it didn't move. Natalie knelt next to it, touching the exact copy of the living being back in the Dream. The glassy, inanimate eyes stared into space. The sectioned hands were crossed on her lap, and Natalie put her hand over one.

"Fashioned by Gehrman's hands…her muse, long dead. Whether it was out of obsession or love, I do not know."

A finger twitched underneath her palm. Natalie's eyes widened, and she slowly moved back. She kept her eyes focused on the wooden hands below. Another twitch _._

"Gehrman consumed a third of an umbilical cord, here. I believe he serves as a surrogate; forever doomed to an eternity of the Hunt."

"And the doll?"

"Created to assist him, I presume, or perhaps the Moon Presence wanted to give him company. They are sympathetic in nature, or so we are told."

The finger twitched again, ever so slightly. She turned to him.

"If a sleeping god dies, does its dream cease to be?"

His head tilted at her, intrigued. She waived her hand across the length of the doll on the floor.

" _It dreams…_ "

[-]

She was sitting outside, in the usual spot, on top of small rocked wall, near the outskirts. Instead of an endless, misty forest of tree trunks, she saw the damp and gritty walls of buildings. All the lights in the windows were dark, and the occasional shriek from a beast could be heard in the far distance. Footsteps neared.

She glanced up. He looked…confused. Pained, even. His eyelids lowered, as he moved his gaze towards her.

"I am unsure what to think."

She sighed. "I believe the doll serves as a sort of anchor, keeping the dream alive, as the original dreamer goes through the cycle of death and rebirth. Surrogates are not anchors. Neither are hosts. That is why the realm continued to exist after we, excuse me, _I_ killed Micolash."

He looked at her, surprised. She grinned. "I'm not a complete idiot, you know. I have done quite a bit of reading since coming here." She jumped up from her seat, grabbing at her arms, pacing a bit. A look of concern and sadness washed over her face.

"Alex, I'm worried about what happens after all this is done. I do not know if you will remain what you are now, or if you will become a part of the sleeping doll in that Workshop. If that is the case, then I would willingly live an eternity in this reality, as never to experience the day when you cease to exist in _my reality_."

His expression turned serious, as his eyes narrowed on her. "Natalie, I will always come for you."

She raised her hands in the air. "How? How would you do that? None of this is real, that's what I'm afraid of. I'll wake up, and it'll just be a dream, and I'll be back in that fucking apartment, staring at the handful of items that weren't burnt to ashes. For months, all I wanted was to leave. Now…the thought makes my stomach churn."

"You have been unconscious many times here, yet you still awaken in this dream, this nightmare. I do not think you are bound to your world anymore. After this ends, I believe you will wake up to the sunrise, but… _here_. In Yharnam."

She frowned, looking around. "I'm not from here, though."

He stood up, and reached out for her, grabbing her hand. "Neither am I, my lady. However, I intend to take you with me."

She looked at him confused. "Where?"

"Back home, to _my reality_."

She slowly shook her head. "No, I don't think I could. I am not nobility." She went to push his hand off hers, and he held it tighter, pulling her close.

"You think me so shallow? Such restraints are for royalty, my lady."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I haven't even slept with you."

"Is this a common practice before vows?"

She nodded, then shrugged. "Well, for me, at least."

He took his gloves off, tossing them on top of his hat and face covering. He unbuckled is overcoat, throwing it on the ground. He sat back on the rock wall, and started to work on the clasps of his boots, easing one off his long leg. He looked up. She was standing there, staring, her cheeks red.

"It's…um, been a while…"

A devious smile spread across his lips. "Oh, I have absolute faith that you will remember what to do."

The other boot slid off, and he stood back up, undoing the cuffs of his shirt. He unlaced the top portion, and pulled it off, adding it to the makeshift pallet on the ground. He went to unbuckle his pants, dropping them to the ground with his undergarments. He moved them to the side, and turned back to her. She hadn't moved.

He crossed his arms. He had no shame in being bare. Her, on the other hand…she seemed reserved. He waited patiently.

She turned her back to him, and nervously fiddled with her patched up pants. She dropped them, kicking them off to the side. She stretched the tunic out. Nothing underneath. She looked around at the buildings crowding the skyline. Maybe she would just… _keep that on…_

Arms snuck around her, as one traveled down to the middle of her thigh, grabbing the hem of the tunic, and pulling it up, antagonizing her nerves. Both of his hands grabbed the shirt, and hefted it off her torso, tossing it to the side. His mouth found her neck, as his arms wrapped around her chest and hips.

His mouth sent chills down her spine, and he twisted on an erect nipple, as he grazed his lengthened canines across the vein in her throat. Her heart was beating fast and hard. His beast was elated. It would finally sate its hunger for her.

Pulling her back with him, he forced her down, and eased her on her back. He leaned in, and kissed her soft at first, increasing the intensity as she responded in kind. He felt her hands move over his body, caressing what she could reach in sensual circles. Her left hand worked its way across his hip, dipping in the front, where she delicately grabbed him.

He groaned in her mouth, and instinctively thrust forward in her hand. She twisted her wrist, wetting her palm with the leaking end of his shaft, and coating it back down along the length. His eyes rolled back, as a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

He broke their kiss, and started placing wet kisses down her body. Her chest arched when his tongue licked across her breasts. She put her fingers in her mouth, coating them in spit, and went back to her ministrations as before. His hips thrust forward, and he grabbed her hand, pulling it back.

"Too…much…" He was breathing heavily.

She giggled, lust in her eyes, as she playfully bit the air in front of his face. The red haze was making it hard for him to focus. He let go of her hand, and pushed her legs apart. Her smell was intoxicating. He ran his fingers along the dampened curls, listening to her low, erotic gasps. His torso moved lower, as he positioned himself in between her.

She had her fingers in his hair, arching her back, as he ran his tongue along her wet slit. An erogenous moan resonated from her chest, followed by heavy panting. While his sickness would eventually cripple him, his younger years were spent in the warm embrace of the occasional woman of the night. As such, he had learned a few things.

His tongue flattened over her sensitive nub, as his teeth slightly grazed the edges. Her hips bucked, and she cried out, followed by a soft mewl. He slipped a long finger in her, and allowed his tongue to flick along her swollen tissues in a rapid sequence of movements. Her hips fell into a rhythm, and her breathing increased, becoming rapid. He sped up the thrusting of his finger, as she neared her climax. He placed his tongue back on the nub, feeling the pulsations as it throbbed with her inside walls. Her cries echoed on the abandoned grounds, and her fingers gripped his hair, as her legs squeezed around his shoulders.

He leaned up, looking at the flushed woman before him. Her blue eyes were dilated, and her pink lips were parted, as she slowly took in deep, languid breaths. He grinned, wiping his chin and mouth with his hand. Pushing forward, he hooked his right arm under her knee, and spread her out, as he entered her in one swift thrust.

Her eyes widened, as she gasped; her arms instinctively wrapping themselves around him. He rolled is hips forward, as he moaned into her neck. He moved his knees under her rear, and tilted her hips upwards, allowing him to penetrate even deeper. Her body immediately responded, and she let out a loud cry, clinging onto his shoulders. He thrusted in her at a steady rhythm, feeling her fingers grip into him, as she neared another climax. His mouth moved to cover hers, as she screamed, convulsing around the part of him inside her.

He twitched; still erect and eagerly craving a release. He rolled on his back, bringing her with him. Her head drooped, as her hair fell to the side in a tangled mess. Her arms were weak, and she was barely able to keep herself propped up. He latched his hands on her hips, and began thrusting upwards. She gasped sharply, leaning further towards him, placing her mouth on his. His eyes became a fiery red, as the sharp, beastly claws developed. A loud grown erupted from his chest, and his sharpened nails broke the skin, as he held her down, filling her womb with his seed. Her eyelids fluttered, as she made a series soft moans to match his motions.

His heart felt like it was going to explode, and it took a minutes, or so, to calm down. The smell of iron intermixed with the aftermath of their love making, and he lifted his hand, watching as the claw receded. He licked her smeared blood off.

He leaned up, placing a kiss on her moist forehead, pulling her back down into his embrace. He ran his hand down the length of her spine, causing her to giggle. His blood still pumped in her veins, and the accidental cuts he had given her were already healed. She had her leg propped up over him, and her arm across his chest, while the other one snaked its way behind his neck. She was falling fast asleep. His right hand moved down her hip, as sleep overtook him.


	14. Chapter 14

She was wearing a large, white dress, that was in two pieces, a corded belt around her waist. A hood covered her head, with a built in, fully rimmed, hat. The cloth material draped down, wrapping around her shoulders, similar to a shawl. Full, bellowed sleeves fell from the middle of her forearm, and white, almost velvet, gloves covered the rest of her skin. It was apparently the standard attire of the healing church.

It was _stupid._

Alex handed her a pair of white boots, with stiletto heels. She accepted them, walking past him and out the doorway. She lifted her right arm back, then stepped forward, throwing them with all her strength over the fence, disappearing into the misty unknown.

He got the drift, and found some softened, black leather boots with decent arch support. Thin, cream colored trousers covered underneath the skirt, which gave her some form of comfort.

"There's a reason for this, right?" She held the skirt out, a look of absolute disgust on her face.

"The cloth is interwoven to help keep fluid away from your skin. We're going someplace… _unpleasant_."

He was wearing his typical Hunter outfit. "What about you?"

He grabbed his saw cleaver, doing his usual routine of checking its functionality, as he transformed it to its trick form, then back again.

"Your blood outweighs the benefits any attire could offer, my lady." He winked at her.

She gave him a sly grin. "You're high right now, aren't you?"

He hooked his gun on the side of his hip. "Most definitely."

"Maybe we'll stumble across a 7-11."

She followed him as he walked past her, heading down the typical cobblestone stairs, and stopping at the second tombstone. He knelt, placing his hand next to something called "Forbidden Woods." The zombie babies materialized, happily reaching for them, as her vision faded.

She found herself in a dark, almost swamp-like, forest. Behind her was a ruined building, with an opened, rusted gate. There were a few tombstones nearby. The smell of rot and decay hit her face, and she coughed.

"You weren't kidding. This is shithole."

He stood up, readying his pistol in his left hand. Her blood was rushing through his veins, making him lose focus a little. He had, perhaps, consumed a little too much, this last time.

"Most things should be dead here, as I have done multiple passes of this area. However, please keep your guard up." He glanced at her, holding the Evelyn in her right hand. He grabbed it, and put it on a loop on her right hip.

"I will also be training you how to properly use your weapons. You will not be using your right hand for your firearm."

"I'm not left handed though?"

"Firearms are meant to stagger your enemy, enough for you to place a deadly strike with your primary weapon or fist. They should not be used as your only means of defense. They are unreliable, and not very accurate."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Really? You weren't complaining the three times I disposed of the Hunters who kicked your ass, or the time I took down the Menstrual guy."

"Mensis."

She put her hand over her mouth and snorted. She was still feeling the effects of his blood, although not as strong. It had been…she looked at her watch: roughly eight hours.

"Luck will only get you so far." He sighed. "At least, try it once, please?"

She glanced up to see him giving her that pathetic, puppy dog expression again. "Stop giving me that look, it's unfair." She took her cane out in her right hand, and grabbed the gun in her left. "If I shoot myself in the foot…" Her eyes darted off to the mass of feathers to their left. "I don't know, but I'll think of something painful to do to you."

She slammed her cane on the ground, causing the spiked chain to unravel. Jerking her right hand back, she swung forward, horizontally, swiping across two enlarged, and bloated, ravens on the ground. They cried out upon impact, as chunks of their bodies were torn away. She swung her arm the opposite direction, going in a diagonal motion upwards. She lifted her left hand, firing, and missing the two bodies entirely, as she shot off to the side, into the ground. The birds fell back down, already dead from the first hit with her cane.

She twisted the handle, rolling her eyes and putting her gun back on her right hip. "Yeah, so…what are we looking for here?"

[-]

"Is this where you usually take woman on a date?"

They were standing in knee high swamp water, towards the basin of the woods. He had missed an area up ahead, and was curious to see if anything was hidden within the ravine.

He turned to her, his eyebrows pushed together as he gave her a look of disbelief. "My lady, you frequently comment that you cannot believe the things that come out of my mouth. However, I dare say that statement applies more to you."

She grinned, and looked down, gripping his arm as a stable point, as she felt forward in the murky, brown water. She had taken the skirt off, and had it folded over her shoulder. The swamp water flowed above her black boots, and she let out a disgusted groan.

"Help wick water away, blah blah, resistance, blah blah, here's some ridiculous heels…"

She saw a corpse with a mangled head of snakes, bobbing off to the side. She reached her cane out, poking at it, causing it slowly drifted away from them.

"I…don't even want to know what that was."

"This area possesses many of the remains of the Pthumerians that inhabited this region, prior to current day Yharnam."

"Was that the only previous civilization to exist?"

He moved forward, trudging through the thick mud. "Recorded, however, I have reason to believe that there was another. Loran."

She followed close behind, grunting occasionally as her foot would stick into the murky soil below.

He continued. "References to its existence are vague. I have seen only one or two items that have eluded to it. However, the silver beasts of the Nightmare…I believe they herald from that lost city. Yet, they exist only within the Nightmare. In the waking world, I am unsure if anything remains."

His foot pushed off on the shoreline, and he felt more stable ground underneath. He turned, leaning out to grab her hand, and hauled her up. She immediately took her boots off, turning them upside down as the swamp water poured out. Her eyes glanced to his legs and she pointed.

"That is bullshit. Yours go up to your thighs. You're also taller than me."

He grinned. "Perhaps I like watching you struggle, or disrobe. Both are entertaining."

"You would…" She shook her boots as much as she could, before taking a seat on a fallen over, rotting log near the shore. She grimaced as she put one of the soggy items back on her feet. It squished when she stood up.

"This is ruining my high. Was that the intention?"

Another burst went through her nervous system, and she stumbled a bit. "No, wait, never mind."

He walked over, helping her steady herself. He squeezed her shoulder, and she glanced up, wondering what he wanted; taking notice that he had pushed his face covering down. He leaned in, and kissed her hard, forcing his tongue in her mouth as she gasped in surprise. It swiped across hers, and she responded, pushing back against his intrusions with her own.

His blood raced through her veins, and the ecstacy that followed was absolutely divine. If her blood felt like this to him, no wonder he was addicted to it. She picked up the faint scent of spice, and moaned into his mouth, as her fingers interwove into the hair under his hat. His hands made their way down her spine, spreading out over her hips, then up the sides. It sent chills across her entire body, and she gasped again.

He pulled away, breathing heavily, and turned from her, walking in the opposite direction. Her cheeks were flushed, and she had to balance herself on her knees, catching her breath. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. _That was…wow._

"Woo, Lord have mercy."

She pulled the other soggy boot on, and jogged a bit to catch up with him. He had pulled his face covering back up, and kept his gaze focused again. They were headed into a dark ravine. The ground was inclined, leading up from the swampy pond behind them. An eerie silence persisted between the cliffs.

"This is an area I had the misfortune of falling into before. There are creatures you will see, that will be familiar. However, they are hostile, and some are extremely dangerous."

He ducked, and she followed suit behind him. She put her hands on his back, and peeked over his shoulder. In the distance was a bluish blob, swaying back and forth. She squinted her eyes…

"The lady from the clinic? But I thought you killed her?"

Alex was finding it difficult to concentrate. He was fighting a losing battle. She leaned in closer; his skin felt like it was on fire. Her blood coursed through his veins, coating his insides with pure bliss. Her smell danced across his senses, and her hot breath gently drifted across his ear.

He shook his head. This was going to end up badly, he knew it. He turned to her as a wave of eupahoria raced through his veins. "Natalie…" He stuck his hand out, steadying himself on her shoulder, as he leaned forward slightly. "I think I'm blood drunk."

She rolled her eyes. "Please tell me that's not the only reason you slept with me. I don't think my self-esteem can take that big of a blow." She eased him down on the ground, forcing him on his ass, as he started to laugh.

"Rubbish…I've been wanting to fuck you for a very...long…time."

Her eyebrow raised. His accent had changed, sounding a lot less proper. "I think I'm starting to rub off on you."

He giggled, and leaned backwards until he was flush against the stone cliff. He looked at his hand, bringing it to his nose, and smelling. "Aye, some of you did."

Her cheeks flared red, as she put a hand over her gaping mouth. He was absolutely shit-faced. They needed to go back. She turned around, looking at the bog water they crossed to get here. It would be difficult to carry him, but maybe he could float?

A blue image flashed in the corner of her eye, and she saw the thing from the clinic come barreling towards them. She slammed her cane on the ground as she jumped up, swinging it forward to wrap around its torso, and yanking back. A white, pale liquid spewed on her, as the blue, child-like thing screamed, keeling over.

Another was alerted of their presence in the distance, and started to run, full sprint, towards them. She looked to her drunken companion on the ground, his hand over his stomach, as he belched. She rolled her eyes, again. At least this would give her practice on shooting with her left hand.

She ran forward, firing at the blue headed thing. The bullet grazed its arm, causing it to stumble, only ever so slightly. She dodged, as it blindly swung its arms at her. Coming up behind, she dipped low, and thrusted her cane through their back, pushing the end through its chest cavity, towards the front. It jerked on her cane, until it finally collapsed, dead. She put her boot on its back, and pulled her cane out, giving it a good shake. The white fluid was rather viscous.

Walking back, she noticed Alex had disappeared.

[-]

"What's wrong with you girl."

 _A variety of things._

He continued. "Your form is terrible."

"Sorry, I'm just not…feeling it, today."

Gehrman rolled his chair up to her.

"You are either a Hunter or the hunted. You don't get to pick and choose when. You always are. So, what will you be? The Hunter, or the hunted?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she clicked the cane, activating its trick form.

The old man chuckled. "Good. Now, again."

It had been a few weeks since he had disappeared from the woods. Worry was eating away at her, and she found it hard to focus on any particular task.

Her training session finally ended, and she resumed her usual routine. Roughly an hour later, she found herself barefoot in the Workshop, pacing the span of the floor, chewing at her fingers. Should she go find him?

She dressed herself in the drunkard's outfit, and stepped down the cobblestone stair, heading to the Central Yharnam gravestone. She would start there, as it seemed to be the best logistical location to reach most of the area.

Ms. Dolly was in her usual spot, and Natalie waived.

"My lady, are you leaving on your own?"

She smiled. "Yes, I am actually going to try and find the Good Hunter."

The doll nodded, returning her gaze ahead. Natalie knelt at the gravestone, her mind full of questions. She wondered if Ms. Dolly knew about her replica, outside of the Dream. Would she be frightened? Offended? Did she know she was created after the image of a living woman?

The zombie babies happily grabbed at her hand, and she watched as her vision distorted, then refocused, as she found herself on the familiar upper level, gazing over a portion of the city. She walked onto the outcrop, preparing to lower herself to the ground, and tackle the ladder. A shriek echoed from behind. It was an area she had never been; the path to the left.

She turned, her cane in her hand, as she cautiously proceeded down the steps. A corpse was splayed by a lamppost, mutilated beyond recognition. She continued down, as the sounds of yelling resonated in the distance. She came across a few of the giants, their chests punctured, grisly holes. The blood still steamed, marking it as a fresh kill. She looked at the corpse, recognizing the tearing swipes of his saw cleaver; he was near.

There was an ornate lever mounted to the tile floor, next to the gated section of an elevator shaft. The gate was closed, and no platform was on the other side. She pulled the large lever, groaning a bit, as she used her entire body weight to move it. It fell back, and the gears churned as the moving chains brought the platform back up. The metal gate swung open, sending a metallic screech down the empty street behind her.

Upon reaching the bottom, she stepped off the platform, and turned through the doorway, onto the lower streets. She ascended additional stairs onto a large bridge. Shouts became louder, and the familiar sound of his weapon rang above the chaos. She smiled in relief, and hurried towards him, only to stop dead in her tracks…startled at the gruesome sight which laid before her eyes.

The huntsman's head was ripped off, as blood gushed out of the new opening, the heart still beating hard and fast. Alex was dripping in red gore. It covered him, saturating his clothes, his skin, his soul. The beast was delighted, and a maniacal grin spread across his thin lips.

There was one left, crippled, attempting to crawl away from him. Blood trails followed behind, as the man whimpered in pain. Alex walked to him slowly, taking a dagger from his boot.

He grabbed the deranged huntsman by the hair on the back of their head. They whimpered again, crying, but it concerned him not. He dragged his dagger across their throat, listening to the sounds of their gurgled gasps for breath, as their life force poured out onto the damp bridge.

He breathed in, content. He had come here, trying to ride out the waves of insane bloodlust caused from consuming too much of her blood. It still coursed in his veins, and his body was struggling to bring itself down from the heightened sensation.

His senses picked up something, and his eyes shot up.

Her blue eyes beheld him with such incredulousness, her mouth firmly shut. He slowly stood, coming to full height, the dagger still in his hand.

"You do not fear me, yet you should."

"And what should I fear?" Her expression remained firm, and she watched him with a coldness he had not seen for some time.

"A monster. A demon. You have known this…ever since I almost plunged my blade into your bleeding form on the table. If you thought me capable of anything else, then it was your own delusions." He did not know why those words fell from his mouth, and his conscious cried out, desperately wanting to take them back. He watched her wince, sensing her heart stop briefly, before slowly beating once again.

She twitched a little, her eyes glancing to the side, as her arms came up to rub her shoulders. She, awkwardly, walked forward, and headed down the empty cobblestone bridge. He watched as her silhouette disappeared up the stairs in the distance; unable to move...unable to even speak.

He dropped to his knees, crushing his hands on the sides of his head, and screamed.

[-]

She had wandered into a circular graveyard, with corpses littered about. There was a large man, his face contorted, as beast features covered most of his visible form. Other bodies were stacked, ripped to shreds, and thrown across the grounds. She ascended some stairs, reaching an upper area that overlooked the graveyard below. Through some large gates, she discovered the entranceway to a small, study of sorts. It was tucked away up some more steps, in the far back, where coffins lined the walls. It was quite a strange place for a small library.

A few texts were recognizable on the shelves, yet there seemed to be many she had yet to stumble upon. A decorative globe was in the corner, and she walked over, trying to make out the land masses it depicted. It was mostly primitive, and she was not able to decipher much.

She was still a little shaken by what she had just seen…what he had just said to her. They were harsh words, indeed. She knew the people of this nightmare were deranged, unstable, and insane; some worse than others. Alex was no different, and routinely battled with his own internal discord, ever since she had first met him. He had this obsessive fear of turning into a beast, and would sometimes lose his shit over it.

Alex was a killer, she knew this, as well. He goes by "Hunter" for Christ sakes. She had seen him kill dozens of beasts and crazy madmen. What bothered her was the enjoyment on his face after he slit the whimpering man's throat, as though spilling blood was as relaxing as a day at the spa. She had killed others herself, but never took pleasure from it. It had always been in the form of self-defense: kill, or be killed.

She pondered. The longer she stayed in this dream, this nightmare, would she start to enjoy bloodshed? Would she begin to crave it? Was it from the Great One's blood, the presence of the alien moon, or simply _being here_?

A doorway in the back of the study caught her eye, and she ascended the steps into a damp corridor…

[-]

He arrived back into the Hunter's Dream, seeing the doll in her usual position. He needed to speak with Natalie…he needed to apologize. He glanced over to where she would usually sit and read, finding the spot empty.

"Welcome home, Good Hunter."

The doll tilted her head, looking at him with an expressionless face. He frowned, and proceeded to head into the lodge, passing her by.

"Good Hunter..."

He froze, slowly turning around. The doll had moved positions, a wooden hand outstretched towards him. Her eyes almost seem to carry an emotion. She was… _worried_.

"Our Lady went to find you."

He looked at the doll. "She did." Shame filled his eyes, as the doll continued to stare, and he looked away. Natalie must have discussed what happened with the doll. She would do this, from time to time, when she was trying to sort through a shocking experience.

"She has no Dream of her own. Would you leave her to such a fate, Good Hunter?"

It took a few seconds before his eyes widened. Natalie wasn't there… _she hadn't returned_. A thought crossed his mind, and he panicked, kneeling in front of the Oeden Chapel gravestone. How could he have been so foolish…

[-]

She was sitting how she normally does, her head in her palms, while her elbows balanced on her knees. Skeletor was engaged in a full, neurotic conversation.

She was in the chapel where she had noticed the terrifying, black mass before. It was gone, and she felt nothing but the hellish grasshopper outside. She would see it's giant, dozen fingered hand flash by one of the entrances, every now and again. Obviously, she would not be walking outside…ever.

It was a grandiose building with intricate etchings on the stone walls. It bolstered large pillars, although some of them were in disarray. In the back was an old man, who had told her to "get the bloody hell away" from him. There was also a woman, clothed in a black, robe-styled dress, similar to the white healing church garb, sitting on some stone rubble. When Natalie attempted to talk to her, the woman merely laughed to herself hysterically.

"Okay, you have yourself a great day, ma'am."

There was a corridor that led off to the right, disappearing up a few steps. An odd breeze blew from its direction, and it piqued her curiosity. Above her head was a partial balcony, but she was unable to locate any entry points. She made a mental note to explore this area later.

"You think that, maybe, after all this…we could still be friends?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure buddy. Sounds great."

Skeletor was some sort of homeless man, who had taken residence in the chapel once "the Hunt" started. He had covered the place in incense, hoping to ward off the beasts. When she had pulled herself up from the cellar, it took her lungs about thirty minutes to calm down from the overwhelming wall of smoke that smacked her in the face.

Maybe that's what happened with the black thing? They smoked it out. Made sense.

He wore a large, faded red robe. His skin was darker, and she noticed his eyes were covered in a creamy white. Cataracts had grown over his pupils and irises, rendering him blind. It made her frown. He was deathly thin; his arms nothing but skin and bone. He hovered over the ground, leaning on his knees, hunched over. It was truly a heart wrenching sight to see.

"You are not a hunter." He laughed nervously.

"How'd you guess?" She grinned, interested in what he was going to say.

"Your smell."

"You mean I don't reek like leather and sweat?" She laughed loudly, echoing a little in the chapel. Skeletor followed with his usual, nervous giggles.

"So, I only see two people here. Were there ever more? There was also a dead woman in the cellar, next to some… _thing_. It looked pretty messed up."

There was a chair nearby, which was covered in dried blood. A long trail of red drips headed towards the lower area, where she had ascended from. She had an inclination what had left it.

He whimpered. "Oh, the sweet lady… Oh no…she is dead?"

She cringed, and stuck her hand out, placing it on his shoulder. He jerked back a little, but then relaxed, as he began to sob, quietly.

"Hey, now…it's okay. It's not your fault. You've done a great job. I have never seen anything like this in my life. And to have managed to save two people? That's beyond incredible."

He sniffled, calming a little. "But my lady, I did not save them."

Her eyebrow raised, and she saw a bright light flare to her left. A shape was taking form next to the lamppost. She groaned, as the blind man's head turned towards Alex.

"Ah, Hunter, you have returned! I was telling our new resident of how you've brought so many salvation, out of your kindness."

She visibly gagged, refusing to make eye contact with her beast of a companion. She shook her head, standing up, and heading back towards the underground study. This was a load of crap she had no interest in listen to.

"Natalie, wait."

She gave him the finger and kept walking, sitting down the floor so she could start descending the ladder to the cellar. Maybe the dead body of the woman and the…whatever it was, should have dissuaded her, but after her time in this fucked-up reality, she had started to become desensitized to the macabre.

She felt a large hand snatch her shoulder, and pull her back up to her feet. She smacked it away, getting noticeably upset. He went to say something and she shoved him back.

"What the fuck do you want now?!" Her shout bounced off the chapel walls, and the blind man on the ground covered his head, afraid. Alex's eyes started to become red, as a snarl formed. He grabbed her shoulders, as he tried to control his rage.

Her eyes looked off to the right, as she caught a glimpse of a black mass, pouring down from the ceiling. Her shout must have alerted it of her presence. She started to tremble, as a large blackness instantly appeared near her; the wispy black tendrils, chaotically writhing around. It started to form itself into a shadowy figure.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me…"

A voice spoke in her mind. "You are much like the Queen."

She grabbed onto Alex, who was oblivious to what was happening in front of him; his eyes losing their redness, as she pulled him closer.

"Fear not. You are marked by another. Yet, it is rare for one of your species to possess such… _insight_."

She turned to Alex. His brown eyes looked at her in utter confusion.

"Why can he not see you?"

"His mind belongs to the Moon Presence. She does not wish for him to see that which may question her motives."

She turned back to the massive, black figure. It would phase in and out, never quite becoming human, as though it was unsure what one _looked_ like.

"You said I was marked? By her?"

The figure rippled, as wispy tendrils drifted their way towards her. She stepped from Alex, and moved forward, reaching her arm out. The blackness twisted around her wrist, as she felt the cold prickle of a thousand small needles.

"In a way, but not directly." The black tendril removed itself, fluttering back towards the ever-changing shadow. "You cannot birth me a child."

She looked around, seeing black tendrils slithering all over the three people in the chapel. They sat there, unaware of the alien covering them. In front of her, the homeless man had small, thin tendrils, entering his ears holes. They squirmed sporadically, as though _it_ was doing something to the poor man's brain.

"What are you doing?"

Silence pervaded the chapel for a few moments, before she heard the response in her head. "Granting them insight."

The form dissipated, but the blackness surrounding the walls remained. The tendrils slowly removed themselves from the individuals, who were none the wiser. She felt that its attention had been diverted elsewhere, as the black mass gradually disappeared into the ceiling, from where it had come.

She felt Alex squeeze her arm. "Natalie?"

Her eyes remained fixated on the ceiling.

"What's up there?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Maybe she was beginning to experience insanity? Perhaps what he said had caused her mind to snap? He grabbed her other arm, pulling her body towards him, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I apologize, Natalie. I did not mean what I had said. The bloodlust…I consumed too much."

She sighed in his neck. "You're a psychotic asshole."

He placed his hand on the back of her head, kissing her forehead. "I know."

[-]

She was by herself out in the back lot against the tree again. Her leg was bent, as she leaned up against the tree, holding a book with her left hand, while the right arm draped across her knee. She felt a presence sit next to her. She kept reading and flipped a page.

"I meant to ask you before, but recent events reminded me. What do you, exactly, _see_ in the chapel?"

Her eyes looked up, staring out into the misty distance. "It…is like, a black mass. Ever forming, yet taking no form. The first time, I felt its eyes…they were watching me. You know that feeling you get when someone is staring at you?"

She turned, raising an eyebrow, and he nodded. "It was like that. That… _thing_ …I don't know. The dead woman in the basement. I feel like it has something to do with the black mass."

He stared with her, in the distance, thinking back to when he killed the deformed infant Arianna birthed in the depths. The shock of the ordeal had eventually caused her death, exactly when, he did not know.

"What you are seeing is Oeden, the formless one. He is a Great One. Most revere him as benevolent. It is surprising you are able to see him."

"Why?"

"Because I cannot, although I have gained much insight during my time here."

"Sounds like someone's jealous."

He gave her a disapproving look. "He is trying to impregnate you."

She stared off into space for a few moments. "That makes a lot more sense than you realize."

"It was why I never took you to the chapel when you first arrived. I had my suspicions."

Her eyes snapped to him. "But you took me there before…or, at least, tried to."

He smiled deviously. "I was interested in what you could see, my lady."

She scoffed at him. "Prick."

He laughed, as she rolled her eyes, returning her gaze into the misty surroundings beyond the black gate. "It… _he_ spoke to me. He said I was marked." She looked at Alex. "How can you tell when you're marked?"

"The only way is to split the skull open, and see if you had been blessed with their language. They etch it upon your mind."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we'll just assume I have something etched on my brain, for now. Maybe it's something awesome. Knowing my luck it's probably the word for 'toilet'."

Alex stood up, looking at her, as though he was debating something.

"There…is a way, to contact the Great Ones. I have never read of anyone who spoke directly to them, such as you. It is usually in symbols, emotions…sometimes gestures."

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Gestures?"

He stood straight, and spaced his feet out slightly. He raised his right arm in the air, and lifted his left perpendicular. He kept the form, staring blankly ahead, then slowly shifted, reversing the positions of his arms. She sat there, patiently waiting for something to happen.

Silence.

She stood up, facing him, as he lowered his arms.

"Let me try."

She mimicked his position, while she stuck her right arm in the air, and her left out. She found her eyes gazing over his face, as a small grin formed in the corner of her mouth. She tilted in the opposite direction, giving her left arm a break. She winked at him, which caused his face to light up with a smile, as he chuckled a little.

"Do you feel anything?"

She put her arms down. "Like a dork, that's about it."

"I discovered that gesture, near the location that you were asking about in the chapel. Many things are in the Upper Cathedral." He stared off into space, remember how he shamefully murdered Ebrietas, for no motivation outside of curiosity. It wasn't until afterwards that he realized she had been mourning Rom.

Natalie tugged on his arm. "Are you ok darlin?"

He blinked, as his eyes turned towards hers. "Yes." His expression remained somber. "Natalie, I need to return to the college. If you do not want to come with, I understand."

She moved closer to him, grabbing his chin with her hand, as she tilted his head down. She kissed him, for only a few seconds, and stepped back, squeezing his arm affectionately. "Let me change."


	15. Chapter 15

"Natalie. May I ask you a question?"

She had taken her boots and the gray overcoat off, and was leaning back on a chair, her feet on the table. The college had been abandoned for many years, so she doubted anyone was alive anymore who _cared_. She wiggled her toes. What she wouldn't give for a pedicure…and massage.

"Yeah, sure, what's up?" She flipped the page in her book. Whoever wrote this one was an absolute lunatic…in desperate need of an editor.

He was interested in her theory on what _anchors_ a realm of a Great One. If he was going to successfully end the Nightmare, and escape the Dream, _with her_ , he needed to make sure he had exhausted all available resources. However, he found his thoughts continuously returning to the striking female, unknowingly prostrating herself at the other end of the table.

"Tell me about your family."

Her eyes glazed over, as she blankly stared at the open book in her lap. She had been in this nightmare for so long, she had begun to forget things about her life…her reality. A warm, loving face pushed itself forward from the recesses of her mind.

"My mother is dead." She blurted it out by accident. Her eyes snapped over to his figure, and she saw that he was staring at her.

"I…am truly sorry. I did not know."

She shook her head. "No…no, I didn't mean it like that. She died a few years back. Cancer. She had fought it for many years, and finally her body gave up."

She marked the page in her book, and closed it, laying it on the table. She put her hands over her face, and stood up, turning away from him as she went back to the bookshelf, browsing for a different title.

"My dad lives nearby, and I am…well, _was_ , his primary caretaker. He can function on his own, but he has many issues with his heart, which requires constant medical attention. In fact, one of my good friends is a nurse practitioner for his cardiologist. She also is the one that bought me that mirror…"

She slid a new book out and carried it back with her to the table, taking her seat. She threw her legs on top, just as before, opening the new book.

"I have an older brother, Nick. He's married with two children, back in Alabama, which is about a thousand miles down south." She thought for a bit. "It would, probably, take you close to a month to reach that distance with a horse and carriage. However, I am going off my Oregon Trail knowledge, and my family always drowned or died from dysentery." She laughed, looking up to see him giving her a strange, confused look.

"Anyways, I don't see him much. In fact, I have only met my niece and nephew a handful of times."

She raised an eyebrow, nodding her head, slightly. "How about you? Any siblings?"

He returned to reading his book. "I have two sisters, my junior. Both have married well, and produced many children."

"Y'all don't talk much?"

He chuckled. "No, I suppose not. We were never close as children. I was sent off and raised by my grandparents, before my youngest sister was born. It was at the request of my grandfather. He did not agree with my father on many of his decisions, and wanted to assure that the family's heritage stayed intact."

"Ah. So that explains your curmudgeon tendencies."

He stood up, leaving his book open on the table, and slowly walked to her relaxed form. He crouched, bringing himself to face level with her. He snuck a hand under her chin, and turned her head to face him. Her eyebrows were raised, as she held an amused look.

"We will need to work on your…mannerisms, slightly." He tapped her lips. "Especially this."

"That's funny. You weren't complaining an hour ago when I had it wrapped around your-"

He shoved his mouth on hers.

[-]

She looked on Alfred's dead body, near the statue they first met him at. The clothing over his abdomen was drenched in blood, and she saw a dagger in his hands. He was curled up in a fetal position.

"Wow…he, um…he had some serious, mental issues."

Alex looked at the pedestal, the effigy Alfred had built to Logarius. There was a crown on it, the same as the one he possessed, which had shown the way to Annalise.

He turned to his lovely companion. She had a frown on her face. "This is…wow. I mean… _wow_."

"He felt his purpose had been served. Within their beliefs, self-sacrifice in the name of their martyr is considered the highest form of faith."

"That's… _sad_."

"Come, we are finished here." He stepped away, ascending the stairs.

"I feel bad, do you think we should bury him, at least?"

He growled, irritated. He disliked her affections towards this man, even in death, as ridiculous as it was.

"No."

She cringed, but continued following him.

They headed back towards the grand courtyard of the cathedral district. They were a level above a lower section of the district, and her gaze picked up on a string of corpses below. Their chests were ripped open, with bits of flesh strewn about.

She looked at the man in front of her. Her thoughts returned to the first time she had laid her eyes upon him in the Dream. She had thought he was akin to the grim reaper; a sort of 'angel of death'. Reflecting on her current surroundings, she realized that her instincts had been correct.

"Alex." He stopped, turning towards her in the narrow hallway, an eyebrow raised, questioning.

"Had you killed before you came here…before the Dream?"

The lantern light she carried on her belt reflected off his glasses. He tilted his head to the side, gazing off into nothingness. She kept her eyes on him, curious. He glanced back to her.

"Yes." He turned, speaking away from her. "As I have said, my estate borders a rival country. There have been many skirmishes. Many, would be, assassins have met their demise at the end of my sword. However, that was during my, more, youthful years. As the sickness increased, the assassination attempts stopped, since they presumed death was imminent."

He paused. "If your question refers more towards taking pleasure from killing. Then, no. I did not enjoy it. Not until I came here…"

"Do you think your bloodlust will remain after this is over?"

He shook his head, wearily. "I pray to God it doesn't, Natalie."

She frowned and followed after him. She was wearing a version of the a "Choir" outfit. Black pants that bellowed out at the knees in a ruffle, with black stockings that covered her lower legs. The shoes were ankle high black, lace up boots. A black dress, of sorts, served as the first layer, covered by a white outer coat of the same length. It bolstered a prominent collar, with a gem broach that latched a sort of "tie", holding together some strips of silk.

The hat…, well, she _needed_ her eyes, so she had left that back at the Workshop. It was a grandiose, triangular pirate hat, but the front had a metal mask with no holes. When Alex had handed it her, she looked at it with a raised eyebrow. "Are we already getting into the 'Eyes Wide Shut' portion of our relationship?"

All in all, she felt like she was dressed for old-fashioned boarding school. It was comfortable though, and, amazingly, the material was more akin to cotton; it lacked the heavy leather and wool that most of the other outfits possessed.

Her stomach rumbled. _Odd_. She looked around. They were in the middle of circular courtyard, which was also a graveyard. In fact, everything was a graveyard, now that she thought about it. She wondered…if she _were_ to ever wake up from this nightmare, would Yharnam look the same?

"What were you going to ask Alfred?"

"There is an item I am seeking. I am unsure where to find one."

"What item, in particular? Or are you trying to be mysterious to keep me interested?"

He stopped, turning towards her. "I believe I keep you interested by other means." He winked, as she rolled her eyes; a slight blush dusting her cheeks. "The item is referred to as a 'living string'. A particular remnant of the Great Ones. Very powerful."

"Have you not come across one yet? I thought you have killed a few of them, so far?"

He shook his head. "No, only kin."

They made their way back to the Chapel, dodging the waiving arms of the 'hellish grasshopper', which had permanently perched itself on the building's side. He knelt before the lamppost; Natalie was not far behind.

"Where to?"

"How do you feel about tombs?"

[-]

"This seems mostly impossible. In Europe, they have catacombs that run underneath a lot of the older, larger cities. They spend millions each year, repairing and fortifying the underneath…otherwise the entire city would cave in."

She touched the carved stone near the next entrance. They were in the ruins underneath the city. He had performed something called a "chalice ritual", granting them access to a new section. Rumors were whispered that powerful and rare items were still hidden within its depths. Even more powerful creatures, also, lingered.

She had refused to watch the details of the ritual, after he prattled off the ingredients list.

This portion of the ruins was still nearer to the surface, which gave him slight confidence in her safety. He had been quite a few levels down, before, and found himself quickly turned to ashes by a Keeper. The deeper you went, the more hostile and powerful the residents were.

"Here, _huge_ , expansive rooms are built on top of other, even bigger, rooms. There's only so much stress any given material can bear. How this hasn't collapsed…I honestly haven't a clue."

They walked further a bit, dodging through a new doorway that opened. It had been quite some time since Natalie first arrived in the Dream. She kept time by the mysterious device on her wrist, and claimed it had been "seven months in hell, and counting".

"Do you ever miss your wife?"

He stopped, facing forward. "No. I did not love her."

"I sort of got that feeling, but wanted to check. I don't miss mine either."

He looked at her, his eyes full of confusion.

"Ex-husband. Sorry, I should have clarified." She moved forward past him, and he snatched her arm, turning her towards him.

"You're married?"

Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, then she grinned, and padded his hand. " _Was_. Was married. God knows that was a huge mistake." Her head tilted. "Ah, divorce is not common where you're from, is it?"

He barely shook his head, still looking at her with, almost, judgmental eyes. She leaned into him. "I caught him fucking the neighbor girl. She was four months pregnant by the time our divorce finalized. You're not the only one this shit happens to, _my lord._ "

She nicked his chin and turned back around. "Besides, yours kicked the bucket. I didn't get the satisfaction. He, unfortunately, still lives. And apparently breeds, all too well."

Alex chuckled as they continued to walk a little further. His mind became curious, and he mulled over whether to ask her the next question. She had taken a swipe at a rock with her cane and ducked as it ricocheted of the wall back towards her head.

 _She probably would not take offense._

"Natalie…are you barren?"

She stopped, her eyes looked at him like he was senseless. She shrugged her shoulders, and laughed. "Honestly, I don't really know. I am going to assume you are asking because I have had no children. I had been on birth control. I guess I subconsciously knew he was a loser, all along."

"Birth control?"

She stopped in front of a wooden box, with a latch on it. Pulling out some thin pieces of metal, she attempted to break the lock, mostly for her own amusement, should it ever actually work. "Hormones control our various biological functions. There are a few baseline ones that cover the reproductive systems, both for male and female. For women, you can adjust levels of estrogen and progestin in order to stop ovulation. Some forms of birth control stop menstruation entirely."

Her metal prongs snapped and she stood up, kicking the box instead.

"Once you stop using the drugs, you return to a fertile state. There are obvious side effects, and chances of your body reacting as unintended, but the benefits outweigh the potential negatives. Having a child is not the primary focus for many women."

"High standing women of your world openly partake in that kind of behavior?" His eyes were a little wide with a shocked look on his face.

"Let me ask you this: do _you_ enjoy sex?" She patiently waited for his response, showing no emotion on her face, other than curiosity. He blushed, as his brown eyes nervously glanced around the room, with his hands fidgeting.

She quietly laughed, going back to her task at hand. "I am going to take that a 'yes'. We're animals. One of our primary functions is to reproduce. You better believe Mother Nature has programmed us to think along those lines."

She took out a dagger from her boot. Maybe she could just stab the box open?

"Women are just as sexually active as men. Why do you think the blonde got me flustered so fast?"

"Would you have had relations with him, if he asked?"

She jabbed at the hinge in the back with her dagger, and to her amazement, it tore loose. She grinned, proud of her MacGyver skills.

" _Hell no_. Yeah, he was attractive, but he was also batshit crazy."

"The same could be said about me, my lady."

"So far, the only thing your 'crazy' has done is try to get in my pants. You haven't run around laughing like a maniac about beating some chick 'into a pulp'." She stopped her task, thinking. "There's the blood thing, but I realize that's _normal,_ for this place."

"Try to?"

She laughed. "Well, tried and succeeded. Very well, if I may add."

The box opened, and something shiny caught the lantern light next to them. She attempted to pry it open more, shaking the contents. Something metallic fell out, connected to a chain. She felt Alex's form near her, as he crouched down, picking up the item with his gloved hand. His eyebrows furrowed. "Interesting."

She leaned over, looking at the shiny pendant in his palm. It was shaped like a droopy cross, with the left and right sides curving downwards. It had a wonderful shine to it, and the various etchings caught the lantern light, casting a few sparkles on the wall.

"What is it?"

"A Radiant Sword Hunter badge. This ruin must have been accessed, long ago." He threw it back on the ground, standing up. She leaned forward, grabbing it.

"Why are you throwing it out? It's pretty."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Pretty?"

She waived it in front of his face, letting some of the light shine in his eyes. "This girl likes shiny things, _Count_."

"As well as carnal delights."

She looked at him for a few seconds, and then burst into laughter. She had tears forming, as she wiped them away.

"You're such a prude."

He had a mischievous grin on his face. "I prefer to consider myself as reserved, my lady."

"And a hypocrite."

She walked past him, heading into an even larger chamber, pocketing the badge in one of her many sacks. "Anyways, back to your original question. There is something else that I told at the chapel." She turned to him. "He told me I was not able to birth him a child."

Alex stared at her, saying nothing.

She shrugged her shoulders. "So, maybe I am infertile?"

"Does it bother you?"

She glanced ahead, thinking for a bit. "Yes…in a way. It is a very strong drive, to have children. It's hard to explain, and isn't entirely rational. It's not so much about 'birthing an heir', or whatever you might be used to. It's…I don't know."

Her eyes locked with his. "Perhaps this is what the Great Ones feel? For us, we're a short-lived species. However, I can tell you that, personally, the desire is _strong_. It wanes and waxes, but when it hits…" She looked at the ground. "For beings of a higher evolution, with complex emotions, I imagine it must be devastating beyond imagination. If the horrors we live in are born of their desperation, you almost cannot blame them…"

She turned to him, a far off look in her eyes. "I am in my mid-thirties. Even if I weren't infertile, my time frame for becoming pregnant is short. However, that is never an excuse to simply run around, trying to get knocked up. Kids need stability, love…a decent education. It's quite a bit of responsibility."

He smiled underneath the face covering.

"What about you? Does it bother you?"

His smile faded and he began walking forward. "Yes."

He said nothing else, as he walked past her, heading through the doorway into the next room. "That's it? That's all I get? I tell you a novel, and all you say is 'yes'?"

He stopped and turned to face her. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back around. She rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air, and followed behind him.

"What are we exactly looking for, anyways? You got all giddy over a couple of books back at the college. You also got giddy about other things, so you never finished explaining why we are here." Her eyes narrowed in on him, with an unenthused look.

He grinned at her. "My lady, I am afraid I do not remember you protesting." She shook her head, blushing as she turned from him. "We are looking for blood gems."

"Why not just dig them up, like I did? There appears to be _a lot_ …"

He chuckled. "The ones we seek are rare and ancient."

A strange, low groan echoed in the large chamber they found themselves in. Two sets of stone stairs led up on the sides, to an upper portion towards the back. Natalie squinted her eyes; something glimmered.

She reached for her revolver, holding it in her left hand, while her cane was in her right. Alex had taken off up the right stairs, so she decided to take the left. Whatever it was, they would prevent it from escaping. She reached the top, and almost skidded to a stop, her jaw dropping.

"Move!"

She sprinted towards the opposite end of the upper platform, as Alex dodged from the beast's erratic swipes. It was long and gangly, covered in electric sparks. The head was wild, tilted with a mouth that opened wide. It reminded her of some sort of hell-inspired Muppet. Its mouth hung open like a gaping fish, the inner lips lined with grotesque, razor sharp teeth. It squealed as Alex's weapon slashed across its chest.

An idea popped in her head. She crammed in her hands in her pockets, pulling out some fire paper, as she sprinted around the edges, trying to stay out of the way of the fight in progress. Her cane was coated with the flammable residue and she reached back in her pockets.

 _No lighting stick_.

"Shit! Alex! I need a lighting stick!"

"Are you mental?!" He dodged, rolling to the side as the beast charged into him. A massive claw swiped one of the statues that lined the platform. The head flew off in one quick break, slamming into the wall perpendicular to it.

He ran past her and she heard the clink of a few items fall on the floor. She slammed back against the wall, as the beast pushed past her, its eyes focused on murdering her… _lover_? She swooped down picking up a stick, and striking it. Her cane erupted into flames.

The loud noise of something solid erupted, and she saw Alex crash into one of the walls, his head whacking against the hard surface. He fell to the floor, leaned over, trying to regain his focus from a borderline concussion. A loud click was heard, and the beast swerved its head around, losing its concentration on the beaten Hunter in front of it.

Natalie thrusted forward, moving her arm in across her chest horizontally. A massive display of fire lit up the dark chamber, as the chain found its way around the beast's abdomen. She braced herself, using her body weight to yank the chain backwards. The sick sound of flesh ripping open surrounded her, as the beast wailed and screeched.

The chain dislodged and she clicked the handle to change it into the primary form. The beast was limping, but a renewed sense of rage filled it, and it sprinted towards her. She lifted her left hand, firing two shots, then raising her hands over her head to protect her face from impact. The beast stopped in it tracks, leaning forward, swaying back and forth, roughly a few inches from her. Her eyes widened, taking in the full details of the monster in front of her. The smell of rotting flesh filled her nostrils.

Blood splattered on her face and chest, as Alex's bone weapon plunged through the beast, from behind. He thrusted downwards, causing the remaining, blackened, internal organs to fall out onto the floor beneath the beast. It fell over, emanating low, painful moans, before releasing its last breath of air.

He flicked his wrist, resuming his weapon's normal form, and stepped over the beast. She took a step back, as he kept moving forward. His eyes were slightly red and she heard the familiar sound of his inner beast.

Her back felt the cold stone wall. Arms appeared on both of her sides, and she felt his tongue run up the length of her neck, nipping at the throbbing vein. His hips ground into hers. He grabbed her arms, lifting them above her head, holding both her wrists with one large hand. His other roughly pulled on her attire, ripping some of the latches and buttons, as he threw them on the floor.

Her eyes kept a steady gaze into his, watching as they changed from a reddish brown, to a deep, blood red. His lips formed into a snarl, and she saw the elongated canines poke through. His face began to change, only slightly, but would flash back to his human features.

She felt herself being spun around and pushed onto the ground. Her pants were yanked down, as a clawed hand ran a nail along her bare rump, causing her to wince in pain when it broke skin. Suddenly, he shoved himself in, and she gasped loudly. His hands moved, gripping her hips, almost painfully, as he rammed into her from behind, at a fast and steady pace.

All she could do was brace herself on her hands and knees, on the dank, dirty floor of this old ruin…this tomb. Between her groans and gasps, she turned her head to the side. Before them was the dead carcass of the beast they just killed, still spilling the remnants of its body fluid on the ancient, stone floor. The sounds of another beast filled the chambers, and she closed her eyes, a tear falling.

It was _him_.

[-]

She was planted in her usual spot, reading the scattered notes left by Provost Willem, the headmaster of Byrgenwerth. He was also the dead, old man she had stumbled across in the rocking chair on the balcony, when the invading Hunter tried to kill her. She had an idea on who killed him…

A body sat next to her. She didn't acknowledge it. Her thoughts were still muddled from their last excursion. He had left a few times since, going to various places for short periods of time. For some reason, he had known that she needed distance.

"Anything of interest?"

She sighed, flipping over a piece of parchment. Most of the notes read like a personal journal, of sorts. While the man was brilliant, he was ruled by his gut instincts, which were not _entirely_ incorrect. He had even debated about having Laurence murdered, to assure that the Old Blood would never be misused. How he had been so right in his intuitions…

"No…not really. Nothing we do not know, already." She placed another note to the "read and useless" pile.

"My lady…your melancholy is almost unbearable."

She frowned. I was something she could not help. The realization of what he was turning into had hit home. Would he completely lose himself? And if he did, would she be able to do what was needed? In her mind, she already knew the answer.

She reached out, grabbing his hand and gave it a squeeze, as she kept her eyes lowered on the parchment. He put his arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. The smell of spice surrounded her; she sighed, content, continuing her reading. Her eyes narrowed, as she glossed over a particular paragraph in the notes, stopping to reread it a few more times. She jumped up and began walking in a circle.

"Listen to this:

'The immense brain that Mensis retrieved from the nightmare was indeed lined with eyes on the inside, but they were of an evil sort, and the brain itself was terrible rotten. But even still, it was a legitimate Great One, and left a relic. A living relic, at that, which is a precious thing indeed.'"

She looked at him, her eyes widened. "Micolash…he had said something to me. He had mentioned about taking me to the 'Brain'. If that Nightmare still exists, lost in its own loop in time, then this brain Willem refers to…"

She shook the parchment at him; a huge smile spreading across her lips. "Looks like we found a winner!"


	16. Chapter 16

This is the last chapter. I plan to go back later and fix spelling/grammar/word errors. I apologize: my self-editing skills are lacking, at best.

As always, comments and suggestions are welcomed.

Thank you for reading!

[-][-][-][-][-]

"This place is a bad acid trip."

He looked at her, confused. "How could a journey in acid be anything _but_ detestable?"

She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, as she tried to keep herself from laughing. Padding his shoulder a few times, she pushed off ahead, stepping out into the library, of sorts. This was the same location where they had fought Micolash. His body was still sprawled out in front of the broken mirror; the blood hardened underneath.

"I returned here, briefly, and activated a lever to the side." He pointed towards the right at an entranceway. "I believe this 'Brain' fell. How to reach it, I am unsure."

"What do you mean it 'fell'?"

He motioned her to follow, as they stepped out onto the small platform. He pointed to a large tower to the side. She could make out the trap doors that hung from the upper section, over a dark void below.

"We will need to access the depths, to find that which we seek."

" _You_ seek, I'm just along for the ride."

She walked back into the large room, looking around at the various items scattered, in various stages of ruin and disarray. Decayed books were scattered over the tables and bookshelves, as well as ornate candle holders, chairs…everything except what she needed.

"What are you looking for?"

"Rope."

"We will need to jump."

She shook her head, laughing. "No…no…I do not think so. I will break my neck."

"Not if you take my blood."

Her eyes snapped to his. "I'm still sore from our last _session_."

She rubbed the back of her neck. Her sleeve lifted and she saw a hole form. She must have missed it during her attempt to fix the outfit. He had done quite a number on it.

He rummaged through his over coat, taking out two large syringes. He motioned her to have a seat on the table in front of him. She walked over, pulling herself up, shrugging the white, over coat off her shoulders. He stepped near, taking her arm and stretching it out to examine the best entry point.

She turned her head and felt the painful prick of the needle. Her breath held, hoping it would end soon. She felt the large needle move out, followed by the signature pressure over the injection point. A warm palm pressed against her cheek, as he moved her head to face him. He leaned down planting a sweet kiss on her lips.

It only took him a moment to retrieve his own. He turned back, stretching her same arm out again, shoving the needle into the same port. She hissed in pain as he pushed the contents of the syringe into her.

"Well…here we go again…"

She felt the rush of his blood spread through her circulatory system. Her eyelids fluttered, and she braced her hands on the edge of the table, taking large, deep breaths. It was intense, just as much as the first time.

Her senses returned to her immediate surroundings when she felt his hands on her arms. Her eyes looked up into his; they had a tinge of red to them. His eyebrows furrowed and she felt a twitch in one of his hands; he was straining to control it.

"Rage or lust?"

His eyes flashed a deeper red, then returned to the light haze. His voice was deep, with a low growl. "What do you think?"

"Good." She wrapped her legs around him and grabbed his hair, slamming her mouth on his.

[-]

She watched in amazement as her shattered leg began to reform itself. The sound of bones snapping back into place filled up the blackness she was surrounded in.

"I am, definitely, high right now, because this is scientifically impossible, for numerous reasons."

She looked over to her left. She caught the glimpse of something in the low light from her lamp. Alex was hunched over, fumbling with lighting a large one he had brought. The sounds of wet movement echoed quietly.

He struck a lighting stick and lit the lamp, illuminating the suffocating darkness. Her jaw dropped.

"Do not fear it, my lady. It can do no further harm."

Misshapen and disgusting eyes focused in on them. Tendrils, which she could only assume were remnants of connective brain tissue, splayed out underneath the _thing_. Eyes were _everywhere_. If there was space, there was an eye. The thing had spears and chains shoved into it.

"Do you think it became evil after they chained it? Or do you think it was a means to control it?"

He walked closer to the demented Great One. "The latter."

"Why doesn't it attack us?"

He looked up, picking out the faint shreds of light from the surface above. "It is damaged."

"Ah. So it's… _brain damaged_." She snorted. It was never a topic to joke about with people who had that happen to them, but in the case of this _thing_ , it seemed appropriate. Plus, she was high.

She stood up, confident that her leg could bear her weight, once more. Walking next to Alex, she crossed her arms on her chest, looking over the evil alien in front of her.

"This thing is hideous. Do we have to cut it open to get the string?"

An idea struck him, and he straightened his posture, lifting his right arm into the air, while sticking his left to the side, perpendicular. Natalie rolled her eyes, stepping away from him as she waived her hand dismissively.

"You and this 'contact' bullshit…I swear."

A small, ringing formed in her ears. She put her hand over it, her eye twitching. I felt like the time they came across the Fly People at the college, but it wasn't as painful. Alex's form shifted, as he changed arms. A voice crept into her thoughts.

 ** _Heh…hehhh…you…YOU…heh…heh heh._**

Her eyes snapped open. _Oh no…_

 ** _hehe…sssss…we know you…_**

She ran to Alex, grabbing his arms. "Kill it!"

A sharp pain flashed in her mind, and she crashed to her knees, grabbing her head. He readied his weapon and thrusted it into the Great One. An ear-shattering scream erupted in her mind. With every hit the jumbled mass of tissue and eyes wiggled, sending her painful screams in her brain. Finally, it was silenced.

Alex knelt by her, rubbing her shoulders. She looked up, reaching out to grasp some of his coat.

"That _thing_ …was insane." He pulled her up, running his hand across her cheek endearingly. She nodded to him, patting his hand, signaling that she was fine. He turned, walking back to the object of their recent goals.

The dead carcass of the Brain of Mensis sat still. Alex saw something flash behind the large eye facing him. He stepped forward, reaching for his small dagger from his boot. Carefully, he stabbed into the dead, glazed eye, pealing back the delicate tissues, exposing a hard rock from underneath.

A rune…

He poked around further, reaching deep within. He heard a gagging noise from behind him, and chuckled. His hand felt something that squirmed, and he quickly grabbed it, yanking backwards. White fluid covered his overcoat, as he emerged with a bloodied, wiggling string of thin tissue. This was, no doubt, the relic he had been looking for. In his side satchel he had brought a small jar with him. It would suffice.

Natalie was busy theorizing in her current blood-high state. "The chapel alien referred to the Moon Presence as being a 'she'. If we assume the same rules that apply to us with regards to male and female, we could deduce that she can't impregnate her followers…willing or unwilling. Perhaps that's what my mark is? The closest thing she can get. Kind of like adoption. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy." She laughed.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. While he believed her, without seeing, or hearing, the Formless One himself, it was hard for him to verify her claims and speculate further. She was stepping around the "Brain", looking in more detail at the composition of what would be its physiology. He looked at her from behind, thinking back to what just transpired, not more than an hour ago. A sly grin spread across his face; his eyes scanning the full length of her body.

 _It hit him like bucket of frozen water._

"From all the dead bodies scattered about, I would assume this _thing's_ version of marking was not as compassionate. I would also deduce that this is a female."

She turned to him. "At least it's dead. Although, I question if gods can actually _die_. That is more of a theological question, though." She looked up, after receiving nothing but silence. He was staring at her, his eyes wide.

"Alex…are you okay?"

He snapped out of it turning towards her; her eyes full of concern. His mind whirled, unwilling to accept the conclusion it had put forth. The possibility was so remote, it would be incredible. His sickness, it had destroyed his body, and all that men take for granted.

 _Yes, but you partook in the blood healing, did you not?_

She grabbed his hand, squeezing it. His mouth hung open; he did not know how to tell her. He did not know if he should. She had been spared Arianna's fate, but at what cost?

He felt her hand on his face and his eyes refocused on her. He squeezed her hand, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the Hunter's Mark. She moved closer, holding him as he stared at the symbol; the pain flaring in his mind, as it had before.

A scream ripped through his throat. What had he done…

[-]

The Queen stared at him, stopping her heart-wrenching sobbing, if only for a brief moment. The blood on her white dress still glistening in the pale moonlight. Her child was mercilessly cut from her womb, causing the birth of the Nightmare. She pointed towards the upper section of the Mergo's Loft.

He bowed slightly, then walked forward towards the final goal, the sobs returning behind him. This would end the Nightmare…this would end the Dream. His contract would be complete. He had left Natalie at the Workshop, much to her angered protests. He had also denied taking her blood. It was needed for something much more valuable.

He made his way up to the top. In the middle of an open, circular expanse, was a black cradle. The incessant crying of Mergo resonated from the ominous crib. His stomach churned, he knew this was. It would all be over soon…

He walked to the cradle, slowly. The child wailed, just as he managed to peek over the edge, seeing that _nothing was there_. The Formless One's child, also without form.

A large, black mass fell from the sky, landing on top of the crib, smashing it. The child wailed, and the massive thing spread its multiple arms out. Its form was covered in hellish, black cloth adorned in faded jewels and metals. At the end of the arm span, it held wicked, sharp blades. This was the protector. It would do everything possible to assure the child still survived, no matter the cost.

It flung forward, swirling the blades in an impressive display. He dodged to the side, coming up around and slashing it in the back. A feminine grunt was heard.

 _This was the child's wet nurse…_

He caught the glimpse of a large amulet, hanging from the wet nurse's neck. As he dodged her sweeping attacks, he noticed the amulet swung forward, opposite of the movements she was making, as though it was almost pulling her towards him.

She was not an accomplished fighter, and he found himself easily wearing her down through a series of timing and dodges. The atmosphere changed, a sudden darkness clouding the area. The wet nurse brought her many limbs inwards, holding the blades flat. A high-pitched noise was made, as he watched her form split into many.

He sprinted around the border of the platform, dodging the swipes of the clones, while following up with his own slash. Eventually, he narrowed it down to the wet nurse, and lunged forward, stabbing her in the front. A high-pitched scream filled the air, as she crumbled over, dissipating into nothingness.

She was a spirit, not tangible to the Nightmare. A contorted memory, left over from ages past, recycled as a last resort of defense. He walked to the cradle, hearing the cries of the child soften, spilling over into slight laughter, before disappearing. Upon further inspection of the crib, he saw the slimy remnants of an umbilical cord.

His hand reached around the object, pulling it up to his face. He felt that it was blasphemy, what he had done before. Consuming the left over after birth of the gods themselves. Would he need to repeat the cursed action, once again? Natalie's image sprung in his mind. His heart clinched, and he pulled his face covering down, lifting his head back, opening his mouth.

[-]

Alex had been gone for a week. She was becoming nervous, pacing the Workshop. He had not asked for her blood, yet she knew what he was up against. In his stubbornness, he refused when she offered.

"Stupid idiot." While he was basically immortal, he was going after the dead child of the Nightmare itself, and whatever protected it. She had been waiting for him by the disgusting tombstone, so they could proceed deeper into the Nightmare. He came out of the Workshop telling her that she was to remain there. After much protest, she finally let up.

She stepped outside, taking the pathway to the right, that ducked behind the side of the building. She had not seen the old man for quite some time, either, but that was of no concern. He typically disappeared.

The walked towards the large tree stump to the side. Some of the zombie babies popped up. One was wearing a white ribbon. She had found it a while ago, laying around the Workshop. It had grabbed at it with delight, and she decided to tie it in a nice bow around its head. It had given her gift in the form of a jar with even more eyeballs in it. She threw it in the chest.

Leaning over, she stuck her hand out, letting them grab onto her fingers to their little heart's content. The murky water splashed, as the little zombies twirled about.

Suddenly, the water stilled. An image began to form. She could make out the edges an ancient ruins, similar to what her and Alex had explored before. A figure stood; stoic, still, casting their gaze upon something on the ground.

It was…a woman? She had human features, but did not seem entirely so. She was dressed in strange clothing, bearing some similarity to the Hunter's attire. She was on her knees, keeled over. Blood was pouring from her mouth. The red began to morph into white, and she watched as the skin began to peel away. Her eyes fell, as the tissues collected into a sickly, viscous pool below her. Muscle, stretched over bone, fell off in long strips.

Veins intermixed with the gore, as the bones disintegrated into dust. The heart was still beating, as white blood seeped out onto the ground. After some moments passed, it slowly began to recede. A black fog crept over liquid remains, as the heart began to reshape into something. It darkened, turning into a glistening black.

Eventually, all that was left was a black, slimy slug looking creature. Its languidly moved its head about. The tall, stoic figure moved forward, bending down to lift the creature in their arms. The image faded.

A flash of light brought her back to the present. She looked over at the building. Everything was burning.

She sprinted off, running down the cobblestone stairs, as the flames rose into the sky. The doll was standing in her usual spot, with her back to the raging inferno behind her. Her glassy stare, the same as it had always been.

"Ms. Dolly! What happened?!"

"The Nightmare was ended. The Palemoon has set. Our Good Hunter's time has neared its end."

"What the fuck does that even mean?!"

She ran up to the burning building, and noticed that nothing was on fire inside. It was…burning, but not.

She heard a voice, running towards the gated area, where Gehrman would train her. The old man was seated in his wheel chair, and in front of him was Alex, backing away slowly.

Gehrman laughed. "What was it? The hunt?"

He looked at her, then back to Alex.

"Or something else. It's no matter, it's always left to the helper to clean up."

For the first time, she saw the old man stand up. He was much taller than she originally would have thought. Behind him, he pulled out a giant scythe.

"Tonight, Gehrman joins the hunt."

He sped towards Alex, attempting a large upwards strike. Alex dodged, barely escaping, and reaching behind for a quick hit. The old man quickly recovered, and double backed, managing to slice Alex across his arm.

Natalie's hands were in her hair. She didn't know what to do. Should she interfere? A cramp in her side flared, and she keeled over, grabbing at her abdomen.

Gehrman dashed across the field, swiping with his giant scythe. Alex fired from the distance, but the old man easily dodged them. He would dash forward, disappearing into a black, dusty fog, that would instantly reappear next to Alex. Gehrman managed to land another slice, this time on Alex's thigh.

Finally, Alex caught a break. He fired just as Gehrman reappeared, staggering the old man. She saw him drop his weapon, and step forward; his hand in the form of beastly claws. He shoved them in Gehrman's chest. A stomach-churning sound of bone snapping echoed over the field, as Alex managed to break a few of the old man's ribs.

She watched Gehrman shove him backwards, coming at him with full force, while blood dripped out of his open wound. The old man was brutal. At one point, he kicked Alex back, causing him to slam into the large tree in the middle. Gehrman dashed forward, preparing to make the final kill.

It was a mistake. Alex timed the move, ducking just as Gehrman's weapon was about to slice his neck off. The scythe embedded in the trunk, and the old man pulled, trying to jerk it back out. Alex yelled, straining his battered body and lifting his right shoulder. He thrusted his weapon through the old man's chest. Haggard, pained breathing was heard, as Gehrman fell to his knees.

"The night, and the dream, were long..."

She sprinted to Alex, catching him as he stumbled forward towards her. He was broken, bloody; wavering in and out of consciousness. The sky darkened with a deep red tint, casting a hellish blanket over everything. _Something was coming_. She hooked her arms underneath his and hauled him backwards, pulling him through the gate and into the burning building.

The doll merely watched.

His breathing was shallow. Something massive landed on the ground outside, and a few items on the bookshelves fell over. She ran to his work bench, grabbing all the needles she could find.

She rolled up her sleeve and wrapped some cloth around tight. The vein rose, and she stabbed herself, pulling out blood. She felt for his heart, stabbing the needle straight in.

His body convulsed and he lurched forward, needle still in. She pulled it out, stabbing her other arm, and injecting him the same way again. His eyes were trying to open, and kept rolling back. His hand desperately held onto hers, as painful groans slipped out of his mouth. She kissed his forehead "I love you."

She grabbed her cane and a gun laying in his bench. The vibrations were getting stronger. She could delay whatever it was, hopefully long enough for him to regain consciousness.

Stepping outside she saw the doll, patiently waiting…observing. Natalie swung the gun up, checking what ammo was in it, and trying to load the chamber to max.

"Ms. Dolly, this is probably the last time I will ever see you." She touched her wooden arm. "Take care of yourself."

The doll reached her hand to Natalie's face. The cold, wooden fingers felt along the lines of her cheek bone. "Our Lady, the Dream is not yours, nor your fate to suffer. Yet, you have become tied to it, none the less. Take heed, for _they_ are benevolent."

Her eyebrow raised, as she padded the doll's hand, and slowly stepped away, turning from her. She stepped through the gate, 100% positive she would die almost immediately.

It was… _massive_. Disgusting, black tendrils shot out from its head. Long, thin extremities balanced it as it leaned over Gehrman's dead body. Its face was truly horrific. Stretched skin folds, with bone, intertwined and stacked randomly…compressed.

The Moon Presence. _She had come._

She hovered over Gehrman's corpse, the massive head dipping lower, as some blank tendrils wrapped around his extremities. Something twitched in her brain, and Natalie heard a whimper. The Moon Presence…she was, _weeping_. Her surrogate was dead.

A small trickle of blood dripped down from her arm. She hadn't given it enough time for the injection site to close. Its massive head lifted, as if it was sniffing, then slowly turned towards her, tendrils waving excitedly.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" She clamped pressure down on her arm, as the thing made a large gated stride towards her. She lifted her gun, firing straight into its face.

The beast reared up, screaming, swiping the ground. Natalie took off in a full sprint around the tree, positioning it so it at least blocked the creature's direct movements.

She peered around the trunk. The Moon Presence was feverishly looking for her. The incision kept bleeding, no matter how hard she pressed on it. The giant beast swirled around, heading straight towards her. It was no use…her blood…

Alien hands reached around the trunk, and she hit one with the cane. Its ear shattering scream echoed in the dream. The other hand grabbed her, and she stabbed it as hard as she could. The Moon Presence threw her across the field, and she skidded a good distance, before finally flopping over on her side.

Her leg was broken. The gun had fallen a yard or so from her head. She desperately pulled grass, trying to reach for it. A hot breath crawled across her clammy, sweat soaked skin. Too late. She trembled…she didn't want to look. The giant beast continued smelling her…she felt a large nail poke at her incision, widening it, causing more blood to pour out.

Her eyes saw a very small black, slimy tendril, waiver about, before finding its way into the open hole in her arm. It began to burrow and she felt it begin to slither insider her. She clenched her eyes shut, screaming in absolute horror.

A gun fired. The thing stepped over her, focused on the Hunter. Her arm kept bleeding, but she lacked the strength to put pressure on the gaping hole. She felt the tendril move, as it slithered along her insides, moving lower, past her stomach. The blood loss started to cause her vision to fade, and the sounds of the battle near her became distorted. She heard the ear-shattering scream of the Moon Presence as darkness fell.

[-]

She awoke.

Her eyesight adjusted…it was…

She heard the ring tone of her phone.

Her eyes shot wide open. She jumped off the couch, touching her arms.

Nothing.

 _What…_

The phone went off again. She picked it up off the coffee table.

 _Jenn…_ Swiping to answer she heard her friend's voice.

"Girl, where have you been?! I've been trying to get a hold of you for the past hour."

She looked back towards the mirror in the corner, noticing that it was exactly as it had been before her…dream?

"Sorry…I guess I fell asleep."

Her friend sighed. "Look, did you want to meet me at Olive Garden? Remember Jake? I told him I would have dinner with him, and he hasn't seen you in a while. He wanted to make sure you're doing okay…"

Jake, Jake…ah yes, the lawyer. She rolled her eyes. It would be a dinner of him trying to talk about how awesome his life is. He also had _zero_ concern about her welfare.

"Sure. In an hour? That's fine…"

[-]

Silence enveloped her in the car. Her eyes tried to focus on the road.

Was it a dream? Was it real?

What happened to him?

She was wearing a black skirt, flats, and white sweater. Her hair was clipped back into a messy bun. Jake always dressed in a suit, and Jenn would be dressed up as well, trying to impress. Jake had recently gotten divorced…she knew what this dinner was. She was to run interference as an unknowing icebreaker. Eventually, should things go ok, she would excuse herself and drive back home.

She swerved a bit, almost hitting a curb. Christ, it felt like she hadn't driven in months…

The parking lot was full. She walked in, spotting Jenn standing off to the side. She had on a nice black dress, with her hair twisted up.

"Hey girl! Jake said they'd be late. I went ahead and got us a table. You look tired?"

 _You have no idea…_

They were seated towards the back, by the kitchen; the wait staff busily bustling in and out. She figured they would be moving once Jake arrived; he was way too important to have such a poor seat.

"Get me a diet coke, I need to use the little girl's room."

 _I bet._

Her waiter threw some rock-solid bread sticks in the table, and she poked at one with her fork, stabbing it, while proceeding to bang it in the table. She snorted, looking up to catch a disapproving frown from a well-dressed woman.

She stuck it back in the basket, leaving her fork up, and dropped her head on the table with a thud.

This was simply too much; the crowd, the imminent doom of a night of Jake. A tear slipped out, running down her cheek. Why had it felt so real? How could she dream something like that?

 _Or him_.

Her heart felt like had been sliced in two. She looked up to see the well-dressed woman giving her a look of pity, which caused another tear to shed itself. She needed to get out of there. She got up, snatching her purse, and turned sharply, barreling straight into someone's chest.

"Hello Nat…still clumsy, I see." His annoying voice assaulted her right eardrums.

 _Jesus._

That smell. Her eyes widened and she jerked her head up. Beautiful, chocolate brown eyes stared down into hers.

"I'd like you to meet one of my associates, but maybe without implanting your face into him first."

A large, slender hand wrapped some loose hair behind her ear, as a charming smile spread across his lips. "I believe…we may have already met…"

His eyes flashed black.


End file.
